me levanté del sofá y fui a la calle después de estar varias horas sentado, dejando avanzar la noche.
me cargué con el trípode y me puse las botas de hierro para saltar más ágilmente, como rompiendo la tierra, para restregarme en la hierba mojada, entre los escombros, con todo el poder de mis piernas y los pies aislados.
bajé la escalera dando saltos. la calle desierta.
a veces soy un obseso de la noche. aquí he caminado horas y horas, sin alejarme demasiado del hogar, como los tigres, en los alrededores de kadikoy. solo alguna noche me fui algo más lejos, hasta las montañas, acompañado por una banda de perros callejeros -uno de ellos es el jefe. tiene la piel blanca, con manchas redondas marrón oscuro y pequeñas motas más oscuras todavía. seguimos siendo amigos; en parte me quedé en este barrio para seguir encontrándome con él. precísamente esta tarde nos hemos vuelto a ver. pero ahora estoy hablando de otra noche.
bajando por la calle de los escaparates para novias; todos aquellos maniquís vestidos con un lujo provocativo y deprimente. al final está el mercado vacío; un gran recinto que a veces se utiliza también como aparcamiento. si de día hubo mercado, todo el recinto está lleno de montículos de basura apilados en torno a los pivotes de hierro que sirven para colgar las lonas que cubren los puestos.
volví a entrar en el cementerio, donde unos cuantos gatos tienen su guarida. no había nadie. nunca encontré a nadie.
alargué las patas del trípode y me puse a buscar imágenes con el corazón alerta... ruidos de viento y pájaros levantando el vuelo desde la rama de algún árbol que se agita.
la primera vez que llegué aquí me pareció como un cuento. aquí los muertos descansan en paz, reencarnados en árboles, transmutándose su espíritu en abono, todo muy verde, lleno de vida. entre la vegetación hay senderos estrechos recorriendo sus pequeños montículos. los recuerdos de los muertos pasean saboreando el placer del olvido
el placer de la inexistencia
de la unión con el todo
i stand up of the sofa and went to the street after being some hours seated, leting night go on.
i carry the tripod and got the iron boots on to jump agiler as broken the earth; for scrab on the wet grass between debrises, with all the power of my legs , feet insulated.
i run down the stairs jumping. the street deserted.
sometimes i´m like a nigth-track minded. here i´ve walked hours and hours, without moving away by home too much, as tigers do, at kadikoy suroundings. only one nigth i went a little bit more far away, untill mountains; acompanied by a gang of street dogs –one of them is the leader. he have white skin, with dark brown round marks and little dots more darkly as yet. we´re still friends; maybe i stayed leaving here, in this area, to still find him in the street . this particular evening we met each other again. but now i´m telling about another night.
going down trough brides store window´s street; all that dumies dressed with a provocative luxury, as a plastic dream.
at the end there´s the market, empty. a big area that sometimes is used as a parking too. if douring the day it was market, all the area is full of garbage mouds piled up arround iron postes used for hang tarpaulins that covers the stands.
i entered again in the cementery, were some cats live. there was nobody. i´ve never found anybody.
i lengthen tripod legs and began to looking for pictures, with the heart on the alert... noises of wind and birds flying from branches of trees tha become agitated.
the first time i arrived here, it looks to me as a tale. here deaths reast having a reincarnation in trees, becoming fertilizer. everithing so green; fool of life.
between the vegetation there are narrow fotpaths going along the little mounds. the memories of deaths wander aroud tasting the pleasure of oblivion
the pleasure of unexistence
of the unity with the everything
sometimes i´m like a nigth-track minded. here i´ve walked hours and hours, without moving away by home too much, as tigers do, at kadikoy suroundings. only one nigth i went a little bit more far away, untill mountains; acompanied by a gang of street dogs –one of them is the leader. he have white skin, with dark brown round marks and little dots more darkly as yet. we´re still friends; maybe i stayed leaving here, in this area, to still find him in the street . this particular evening we met each other again. but now i´m telling about another night.
going down trough brides store window´s street; all that dumies dressed with a provocative luxury, as a plastic dream.
at the end there´s the market, empty. a big area that sometimes is used as a parking too. if douring the day it was market, all the area is full of garbage mouds piled up arround iron postes used for hang tarpaulins that covers the stands.
i entered again in the cementery, were some cats live. there was nobody. i´ve never found anybody.
i lengthen tripod legs and began to looking for pictures, with the heart on the alert... noises of wind and birds flying from branches of trees tha become agitated.
the first time i arrived here, it looks to me as a tale. here deaths reast having a reincarnation in trees, becoming fertilizer. everithing so green; fool of life.
between the vegetation there are narrow fotpaths going along the little mounds. the memories of deaths wander aroud tasting the pleasure of oblivion
the pleasure of unexistence
of the unity with the everything
