THE MODEL MILLIONAIRE

'Poor old chap! said Hughie, 'how miserable he looks! But I suppose, to you painters, his face is his fortune?'

RIKI TIKKI TAVI

When the "wild" animales put over their life the life of humans is caused by love or by being greatful about helping them for being alive, that's why a wild animal could help people and also put over their life for protecting who help it, not all animals are the dame, not all wild animals are assasins, in their heart exists something and how humans threat them would mark the difference.

THE SPHINX WITHOUT A SECRET

                                              THE WONDER HEART

Each beautiful woman have a really incomprehensible heart, that one that shows some feelings that make you feel all but at the same time make you feel as nothing, as a depreciable and disgusting dust particle, also they tend to say that anyone know what they feel but there is something out there.

Every day in each action the women used to thought that everybody have to know what they think, what they are talking about, and also they feel like in a popular step of being “special”, the real explication for this is that every woman keep on them a secret, that evolving secret that anyone want to knows but she have something inside, that crazy part that used to keep that secret, that crazy part that makes them different and dangerous.

Oh but by other side, the way in which they hide that mystery is the way in which the mysterious things get in love with reality and with the dreams of having her on my arms, in the way in which the mystery would be the attractive and the element that creates love…mysterious and different love, that one that is always on mind but you doesn´t know why.

But when I realize I just have been loosed on that eyes, that gorgeous eyes that make me feel alive, hide, important, special…part of her mystery, part of her. I wish I could found something right there, something real or a real definition of feeling dead, but no dead of being on a thumb, better like being there for having not knowledge of what she hides…in that way I´m not alive.

I must try, I must understand, I must see on her what she hides, see it on how she acts but “women are meant to be loved, not to be understood” Oscar wilde and I decided to follow that, to love her, to give my all to her without asking only loving but I just want to understand or only to know, why if I love her a give her what I am, now she leave me and say before she goes…-you must understand-?

I decide to stop there and love her.

KEW GARDENS BY VIRGINIA WOOLF

MY HEART

it is full of experiences 

of beautiful  gloom,

it is made of pebble trail faces

of horrible doom.

Also it is in constant scambling

with that elder pain

with a fear rambling

with the memories...slain

it tends to circumvent all

but fail with careless a lot,

all them play with it like a doll

and that causes a blood blot

i wish i could find contentment

not with stout 

but i only have resentment

there is no doubt

i think they find on it some easels

but when i reclemed them

they hide like filthy weasels

like disgusting phlegm.

all day with the sad dead rubbed

with the actions that screw

my heart is very clubbed

but continues looking with love at you..