Piazza San Marco

Rebeca lo acompañó hasta la puerta, y luego de haber cerrado la casa y apagado las lámparas, se fue a su cuarto a llorar. Fue un llanto inconsolable que se prolongó por varios días, y cuya causa no conoció ni siquiera Amaranta. No era extraño su hermetismo. Aunque parecía expansiva y cordial, tenía un carácter solitario y un corazón impenetrable.(...) Los puñados de tierra hacían menos remoto y más cierto al único hombre que merecía aquella degradación, como si el suelo que él pisaba con sus finas botas de charol en otro lugar del mundo le transmitiera a ella el peso y la temperatura de sus sangre en un sabor mineral que dejaba un rescoldo áspero en la boca y un sedimento de paz en el corazón.
[Cien Años de Soledad - G. García Márquez]

Tengo el paso que me delata

Otra de Facu haciendo saltos en estudio, acompañado de baja velocidad.

Get on Top!

Facu, en el estudio, a color!

Wind in my hair, I feel part of everywhere...

... underneath my being is a road that disappeared ♫

Revelado y copiado manualen Ilford 18x24

Foto tomada en Necochea, Enero 2008

In the death car, we're alive...

A howling wind is whistling in the night , my dog is growling in the dark Something's pulling me outside, to ride around in circles I know that you have got the time, cause anything I want, you do. You'll take a ride through the strangers who don't understand how to feel In the deathcar, we're alive
I'll let some air come in the window, kind of wakes me up a little I don't turn on the radio, cause they play shit, like... you know.When your hand was down on my dick, It felt quite amazing.And now that, that is all over , all we've got is the silence.. In the deathcar, we're alive
So come on mandolins, play
When I touched you, I felt that you still had your baby fat.And a little taste of baby's breath, makes me forget about death. At your age you're still joking ,It ain't time yet for the choking So now, we can own the movie and see each other truly In the deathcar, we're alive ♫

London Eye

Panic on the streets of London!
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again
On the Leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself
Hopes may rise on the Grasmeres
But Honey Pie, you're not safe here
So you run down
To the safety of the town
But there's panic on the streets of Carlisle
Dublin, Dundee, Humberside
I wonder to myself

Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed D.J.
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life
Hang the blessed D.J.
Because the music they constantly play
On the Leeds side-streets that you slip down
On the provincial towns that you jog 'round

Hang the D.J, Hang the D.J, Hang the D.J
Hang the D.J, Hang the D.J, Hang the D.J

HANG THE D.J.!

Viejo roble del camino, tus hojas siempre se agitan algo

En la foto, mi amigo Ivan, el Profesor.