Two stories and an explanation about trees

Espantóse Angela porque ya digo Jag älskar dig para mi novia.

A Helartista le gustaria algo escrito.

Algo escrito para mi novia, e ya está...

:)



They say that a long time ago (another way of saying it's a myth) a chinese emperor wanted to have the best carp drawing in the world.

So he summoned the best chinese painter, and asked if he could do that. He said he could, but that it would take him some time, and then went back home.

One year after, having no answer from the painter, the emperor sends someone to his village, to ask about the carp drawing. The man says it's not ready yet.

Time passes, and after two years the emperor still has no answer. The second messenger gets the same answer. The painter needs more time.

Very angry and hasty, at the end of the third year, the emperor himself goes to the painter's village.

"It's been three years already. Where is my drawing?"

And the painter replies:

"Now i'm ready to make it"

And he picks a paper, a brush and, on the spot, with vigorous, fast strokes, draws a carp. And it's the best drawing of a carp in the hole world.

"If you could do this so quickly", complains the emperor, "Why did you made me wait three years to have it?"

And the painter walks until his closet, by the wall. And he opens the doors, and thousands of carp drawings fall to the ground.

...

There's a famous story about some writer - i never remember names in these things... - and this writer is sited in some cafe, and a woman approaches and ask him to write something for her, because she is a fan.

The writer politely explains that he is really tired, drinking his coffee, or eating his food, and says that he doesn't want to write anything at that moment. But the girl insists. The writer insists. Then she says she is rich, and will pay for what he writes. He can put his price, and she will pay for it.

Maybe just wanting to be left alone quickly, maybe thinking about the money (we never know) he picks a napkin and start writing. He writes for a few minutes, signs and give it to her.

"How much", she says

"Fifteen hundred dollars", he says, or something high like that

"You will charge me 1.500 dollars for something you took 5 minutes to write?"

And he said "It took me my hole life to write that".

...

You can't grow a tree if you can't find the seeds. And if you won't bend down to catch them - and if you can't select them - you can't grow the tree you want.

You can live in a cave and, in the darkness you see, and artificial light other people do, you can believe trees and sun and grass don't exist at all.

I've lived for years, now, catching seeds. I got a pocketful of them. But i'm also in the dark. And i'm also in a stone cave.

I need sunlight.
I need ground.

If i hold you, Maja, don't you warm me up?

And if you kiss me, Maja, doesn't it feel to me as if i were at home?

Maybe it's strange to tell you this. I guess it IS. But, somehow, i thing you know it.
I think you sense it.

It's hasn't been two months, yet. And i know most people need a lot of time to wait for the wind to bring a seed. Even if they can recognize it. And even if they know how to plant it.

Maybe it should take longer, but i'm sure.

My pocket if full of seeds.
And my closet is full of scars and kisses.

It took me my hole life to write this, Maja.
To learn to grow it.
To learn to feel it.

Even to know the right words.

Jag älskar dig.

...ejem ejem....

Bueno......me estoy hinchando las pelotas........ALGUIEN PUEDE ESCRIBIR ALGO?!?!?!?!?!?


Helartista
(agitando desde las 8 de la mañana)

(no subject)

"À présent, quand je dis "je", ça me semble creux. Je n´arrive plus très bien à me sentir, tellement je suis oublié.
Tout ce qui reste de réel, en moi, c´est de l´existence qui se sent exister."

Jean-Paul Sartre, La Nausée

Había olvidado esa impresión que me causan las frases perfectas. Es el único momento en que no es el sueño o la obligación que me obligan a cerrar un libro. Ahora debo dejar derretirse lentamente ese caramelo en mi boca, y sentir todos sus matices, texturas, sabores. Dejarme mecer y embriagar.

Escalera de placer. Orgasmos existenciales. Inefable sensación de plenitud.
Sentido...

Hace mucho que no sonreía de placer por compartir sorpresivamente un secreto.

Redbull literario

Djinn