The Link

Browsing over a bunch of images, all linked by a similar pleasant melancholic feeling, Navegar por una ristra de imágenes enlazadas por idéntico sentimiento de melancolía placentera, enjoying that past that, even having disappeared, still remains fro longer than a thousand years.

Catching the ghosts hanging on the chipped old walls, listening to their voices, laughs, lifes, being afraid of suddenly and irreversibly appearing into that moment that feed from the past.

Getting no answers to why things, why people and moments just fly away, dragged but some evil wind that transforms everything and brings new scents and colours.

Changing times, and surprisingly discovering myself as the link among them all, whatever I take from yesterday with my left hand, I give it to my grandsons with my right hand.

I’ll leave, but my chips will remain.

The glasses leaving a firm hedge behind, the unowned stairs, the shape stubbornly sitting in the dark, the woman leaning over that balcony and watching the world, the window revealing the winter forest that was just springing earlier this morning, the stair balustrade on which the books of experience flutter, that rapt painter in the background, that mirror cabinet trying to attract its owner in who is lost on this white 19th-century cover, this chest of drawers with those orderly set towels, the miracle of sons and daughters, that latest summer black moon….

Everything matches and orderly links into a chain that connects all the scenarios that will not leave one alone in the world, with no memories or past life.