Travel

I had a crazy idea about spending 10 days in Georgia between projects... Since last November, I've been following the protests taking place in the capital with a deep sense of helplessness... and a strong desire to travel to the country. In the end, I decided to follow my intuition, and yes, I don't regret having come to this unique and special land. Many thanks to all the people who have cared for me and brought me closer to their homeland, even though I still can't pronounce the name Tbilisi correctly.

Thank you so much. Muchas Madloba megobari @dante.mdante !!!

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Being part of the path,
the stone and the error,
silence clung
to my fleeting habits,
although
wandering like Martin Fierro,
"The thinnest hair
also casts
its shadow on the ground"

Hundreds of feelings
and a few for...
a home without foundations,
Dealer dreams
without my two thousand and one nights...
that I didn't spend sleeping,
a teacher's insomnia
close companion,
the light and blackbook,
being like the wind
crossing the desert...
and so
history keeps repeating itself,

Because there are always
pillars, summits, and parliaments,
amperes and empires imposed,
pasture for the blind flock,
that doesn't fight, doesn't listen
to thel people.

In the wagon, before defeat,
dead time
and seeds sprout,
for unbelievers
ignorance is a drug
and here only rubrics,
replicas, and vanishing points
for monotonous lives...

---

Ser parte del sendero,
la piedra y el error,
silencio se aferró
a mis habitos pasajeros,
aunque
errante como Martin Fierro,
"El pelo más delgado
también proyecta
su sombra en el suelo"

Sentimientos cientos
y un tanto por...
domicilio sin cimientos,
sueños simil
sin mis dos mil
y una noches...
que no pasé durmiendo,
a maestro insomnio
cercano compañero,
la lumbre y cuaderno,
ser como el viento
para atravesar el desierto...
y asi
la historia se va repitiendo,
Porque siempre hay
pilares, cúspides y parlamentos,
amperios e imperios impuestos,
pasto para el rebaño ciego,
que no lucha, no escucha
ante un reducido pueblo.

En la carreta antes que la derrota,
el tiempo muerto
y semillas brotan,
para los incrédulos
la ignorancia es una droga
y aqui solo rúbricas,
réplicas y puntos de fuga
para vidas monótonas...