Cuando muera.

Esta mañana desperté recordando a mi abuelo. Un hombre lleno de vida, fuerte, cabezota, sabio, que no se resignaba a vivir una vida de desencanto, profesor, pintor, poeta, escritor y luchador. Ahora que no está, hoy me doy cuenta de cuán sabio era y de todo lo que tenemos en común. Quizá no sea la […]

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Will this be my last?

As I indulged in my self-destructive habit out on the porch last night, I thought to myself if this was to be my last. We really never know. So, I enjoyed my cigarette thinking; Shouldn’t we live with this frame of mind? Life can take a turn at any moment.

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Our last voyage.

In the depth of my soul I fear I’m not yet cured of the malady of “life.” We all have to battle some malady, mine is my own, tailored to fit. Just when I think the dust has settled, here comes another wind of change, unsettling the comfort of normalcy.

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