the journey – poem by david whyte (via

(when leaving is arriving)

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now,
you are arriving.


sin titulo

estarme quieta y esperar que pase. descalzarme para dejar de caminar un rato. dejar. detenerme y bajarme. momentos de callar el corazón para dejar de oírte. para no salir a buscarte. dejarte sin decirte. silenciarme de a poco. aceptar y dejar. apagar el murmullo del deseo y el recuerdo. y esperar que esto se escurra para volver a sacudirme y descubrirme más adelante.

from Günther Grass – RIP

“If work and leisure are soon to be subordinated to this one utopian principle – absolute busyness – then utopia and melancholy will come to coincide: an age without conflict will dawn, perpetually busy – and without consciousness.” ―
From From the Diary of a Snail, 1972

from milan kundera

“The stupidity of people comes from having an answer for everything. The wisdom of the novel comes from having a question for everything.”