Ir al contenido principal

Utopías

Como el trajín de esta semana aún no me lleva a encontrar algo emocionante del mundo exterior, lo que trataré en este ensayo será la dualidad de lo que suponemos que existe y que al mismo tiempo no podemos verificar.

Alguna vez, discutiendo con una madre buenísima sobre la utopía (Regla 1: aquí ni las cosas ni las personas tendrán un nombre más preciso que su descripción en dos palabras), argumentaba sobre lo dañino que puede ser pensar algo que existe pero que nunca se manifiesta, y creo que eso es la utopía. No obstante, que no exista no implica que no tenga un significado.

El significado puede convertirse en un motor y un destino, pero también en un ancla que nos impida transformar eso en acciones o momentos que nos representen algo. Es una esperanza y una trampa, es la dualidad de la que se compone la utopía.

Ciento cuarenta y nueve palabras... En margen

Referencia de la discusión
Yo: Nunca hay alguien adhoc hasta que te das cuenta que si era adhoc
Yo: La vida no es adhoc (...)
Ella: Ash (...)
Ella: Olvido la utopía?
Yo: Mejor disfruta tu vida
Ella: Ash (...)
Yo: Las utopías a veces nos alejan de la vida de verdad
Ella: Nooooo
Es al contrario
Ella: La utopía es la vida
Ella: Nos acerca
Ella: Nos toca
Ella: Nos apasiona
Yo: La utopía nunca llega... La vida es hoy
Ella: Por eso amigo
Si vivimos con la utopía tocamos la vida
Nos prende la vida
La hacemos cotidiana
Sino es muy gris
Ella: Sin utopía en la piel es muy gris todo
Yo: Sin utopía veríamos la gama de colores que existen de verdad, no lo que nos dijeron que existen en la utopía
Ella: Los conozco bastante bien querido (...)
Yo: Yo sé... Y estas son reflexiones para unas chelas
Ella: Claro
Siempre ameritará beber chelas
Yo: Jajajajaj ok
Ella: Chelas utópicas
Yo: Me gustan mas las de la vida real
Ella: Con sabor a utopía
Yo: De acuerdo

Comentarios

Entradas populares de este blog

It was just another time

It was a moan, it was her breathing.  It was the end of innocence.  It was not only the curiosity of the time,  it was the hidden feeling behind.  It was just a kiss, why not?  It was just the fifth bottle of champagne.  The good times need the best liquor.  It was then just a try.  Just her hand in her hand,  it was just a witness surprised.  It was just a moment to stop,  it was just a time to look at the eyes.  It was then the next song,  it was a weird time.  It was another kiss in the eyes.  It was dancing together,  it was falling behind.  It was just another kiss, then another one. It was that electric feeling,  knowing that something is going to end bad.  It was just the delicacy of the moment,  it was just a time.  It was not passionate or wild,  it was curiosity and discovery chance.  It was touching here a...

Useless

I asked a poet to write about you, in the middle of London, next to the river. It was announced he could write anything on paper, at any rate, all the times I wanted. I told him who you were. I used my best words to describe your soft and shiny hair. I spoke about the darkness of those eyes, the strength living in their colour and the power they have to look. I tried to detail the delicacy of your nose and the softness of your lips. And I stopped there and came back in the sensations you were provoking. I had no words for the miracle of your smile. It was automatic; it should be there. I went down to your neck, soft and clean, always smelling like the sweetest perfume that makes me feel lost. Then your shoulders, then your hands then your breast. I got crazy of telling him about the miracles living in the waist and the storms you provoke in your hips. And then I went on. And then I couldn't stop. Your legs, the way you walk and the incredible sensations you were producing...

If you were another piece of words

I would be worried, sad, bitter.  If you were another piece of words.  I would be desperate in the middle of loneliness. Craziest paragraphs would be the centre of my anxiety. If you were another piece of words. I would build the perfect world in one line. Give it to you in a paper. I would find a thousand of ways of solving problems  Put each one next to your nice hair. If you were another piece of words I would not ask you to believe,  To take the risk of what you feel,  to embrace the  best moments of your life. I would be desperate finding the wrongs I would be crazy counting the lies. If you were another piece of words. I would test now my new theory,  Write you six stories, three arrangements, two rhymes. After the word line 76 you would begin to vanish. At the 100th line for sure you would be gone. If you were another piece of words, You could open a new post, Be the secret reason for someone to read Find a new lover or maybe ten,  I wouldn...