Una casa abandonada por el campo afuera de Sevilla.

Plantilla que hice con un amigo de Madrid. Sera dificil a cortar... vamos a ver como pasa.

her

He was standing some distance away, far enough to be a part of the mass, yet close enough to seemingly sense the movement of her hair. He remained unmoving, but only on the exterior. Within him mechanisms millennia old were churning, pulling him back to something older than time, and it was then that those things around him ceased to retain importance. Only the movement of the hair remained, that whiteness showing through the lips of her smile, the blinking of her eyes. These developed themselves into a seething, heaving importance that started in the chest, and seemed to reverberate throughout the room, joining the ambient rhythms while still discordant with them. Something pushed, and yet he resisted. It pushed again, when the time seemed just right. And yet he resisted. Then an explosive shove drove through him, an emanation from within, and he began moving towards her. Fixed upon her all the while, he moved ever slowly and the butterflies were devouring his insides. The music became more intense, the reverberations electrocuting those insides; an electric buzz swam through him. And he was close.
So close to her.
Next to her now.
He pinched himself nervously in a feeble attempt to grasp the realness, the nowness of that situation.
And then he tapped her on the shoulder.

NYTimes Article.

"In the boardrooms of Wall Street and the corridors of Pennsylvania Avenue, I don’t think you’ll see a yellow sign that says “Think Safety!” as you do on job sites and in many repair shops, no doubt because those who sit on the swivel chairs tend to live remote from the consequences of the decisions they make...An economy that is more entrepreneurial, less managerial, would be less subject to the kind of distortions that occur when corporate managers’ compensation is tied to the short-term profit of distant shareholders. For most entrepreneurs, profit is at once a more capacious and a more concrete thing than this. It is a calculation in which the intrinsic satisfactions of work count — not least, the exercise of your own powers of reason."

Matthew B. Crawford lives in Richmond, Va. His book, “Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry Into the Value of Work,” from which this essay is adapted, will be published this week by Penguin Press.

stencil

this stenciled image has started adorning seemingly random walls in sevilla...

vamos a ver.

Estoy empezando. Voy a seguir? Quiero compartir mis idea, mis sentimientos, mis gustos y desgustos con todos. Pero no lo quiero empujarlas. No quiero nada ser un hombre que piense todos sus cosas son lo mas importantes. Eso no vale. Y ademas, no vale la pena, porque nadie va a desparar en algo que es tan trivial. Vamos a ver.