Cunning duel

"It was just a game."

That was all the alibi you'd ever need. Your proud sword and your brave shield, always at hand, ready to attend submissively to all her owner's desires. You even tricked me once for a while, that is the power of your finest masterpiece... and your precious last sentence.

But you claimed the winning prize too soon. Too self-conceited to be aware of your plan's flaws, to realize that the very source of your strenght is at the same time your defenses' weakest spot. Because fake tricheries and hoaxes could only win you artificial deceptions. Yes, the dice was loaded from the start, but there's no way to fool a Joker.

Empty words. A marvellous shining magic box, with just a little puppet inside. Some natural talent as a liar, but not enough brains to see it through. A game, you say? Indeed - a game you lost.

Nadal, regal superficial (rima)

   puta merda de món globalitzat

        i mal globalitzat

        que ens tenen collats i esclavitzats

        no només per a què consumim

        i què ho fem en alta mesura
     
        no.

        ja no és què ens dictin què hem de consumir

        ara també el COM?

        i l'ON?

        posar fronteres al seu propi "lliure mercat"?

        variar preus en funció de la nacionalitat?

        em pensava que només passava amb els videojocs, tot allò del PAL i NTSC

        però no

        amb les figuretes també

        no

        no puc comprar una puta xorrada de 6 euros que mola molt i és la il·lusió de la meva vida a una botiga on-line japonesa

        no

        m'haig d'esperar anys a que la venguin als EUA o amb molta sort a Europa/Espanya

        per poder pagar uns 40 euros
   
    Gràcies món.

Well, what about Eleanor?

He had halted, and seemed loth to ride into the stream; and they noted that for a while his eyes appeared not to see them or things about him. All that day he was silent.
'Are you in pain, Will?' said Lyra quietly as she rode by his side.
'Well, yes I am,' said Will. 'It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.'
He was very pale and his eyes seemed to see things far away.
'I am wounded', he continued, 'wounded; it will never really heal.'
'Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,' said Lyra.
'I fear it may be so with mine,' said Will. 'There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?'
Lyra did not answer.
But then he got up, and the turn seemed to pass, and he was quite himself the next day. It was not until afterwards that they recalled that the date was December the twenty-third.

Calaix de Sapastre (I)

11/7/2011: No hi ha manera. L'he perdut. Busco i regiro dins meu, registro i reordeno i torno a iniciar la recerca entre l'oceà sense fons dels sentiments, records i pensaments, però no hi és per enlloc. Reobro velles cicatrius i tiro sal a ferides que encara han de sanar, tot desitjant trobar-hi la senyal que destapi el vel de la incertesa, la pista subtil que de sobte es fa evident i, malgrat deixar en ridícul la ceguesa anterior, justifica i dóna sentit a la recerca. Però res, no hi ha res. No hi ha manera. No trobo la inspiració, ni em trobo a mi mateix.

 

Inapropiat

Era una simple imperfecció del detallat pla. Una mera esquerda superficial, incapaç de destronar l'esperança que el foc resorgís de les seves pròpies cendres, la convicció d'aquell qui segueix complint la promesa tot i saber que l'altre ja l'ha oblidada. Una fisura diminuta, o una divisió insalvable si no s'inunda la distància infinita entre sequeres de mirades.