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Foto del escritorMaria Berns

Abril 25



Viajo para olvidar. Algunas veces, mientras observo una cosa, recuerdo otra y, entonces, quiero regresar pero no sé cómo ni a dónde. Entonces, me siento a escribir para encontrar el camino de regreso, pero quedo flotando.


Y de repente soy Mary, and I rename myself Mary.


I feel in a foreign land.

She used to listen music from Chicago

She wanted to leave. always.


She is looking into nowhere, empty thoughts.


I stroll around ... viewing the nearly empty streets. It is interesting watching them

doing their routines.


Where on earth am I to go?


I no longer belong to those crumbling streets and houses.


I hear the utter lifelessness of the streets

A girl and a boy chase

bubbles by the sea

i feel i am getting to know them

Is it Sunday?

Who knows, anyways?

en la calle, un hombre canta sobre la mujer que abandonó a sus hijos

they seem to be having fun

the breeze pushes the bubbles far away Fascinating yet meaningless.

I see a woman behind a window Something in her makes me feel good

there are many things out there I like to think that.

everything is getting farther and stranger


i feel i am getting to know them

It is interesting watching them doing their routines.


I leave the hotel, I walk across the square, at that time it is deserted, not totally, (with the video of the sea)

I meet a woman, I do not know her, she knows me. (With the flick video that starts with a woman looking at the camera)

Farther away, another woman is getting married, it's not me, but it could be me. Or it might.


Sometimes I think I talk to someone who is not me.


Once upon a time there was a woman who lived inside another woman.


I am here for a short time

I am just losing all sense

of human individuality

all memory of human life, with its grief

and worry and doubt, and become

part of the atmosphere

no siento ni sentiré nada

as to what would happen to me.

I keep out of water and

any other sort of

affliction

locales walk at a brisk pace their naked feet make

no sound on the streets they pay

no attention

whatever to where

they are going either in this world or the next.


I sit down under a lamp, prepared to contemplate, until dinner time, the wild beauty of the scene.


Sign of human habitation

at first there is none

Imagine a vast cathedral with

countless columns

composed of the most exquisite

dark−green moss.


Next morning I go ashore and start on a walk. i am having a series of

prophetic visions.


Some say that the rest

of the road is far worse

in a muddled, tangled state.






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