INKTOBER 2017 | 21-31

La última colección de dibujos de éste Inktober, en colaboración con El diablito con suéter escribiendo. Pueden ver/leer más de él acá:

And maybe yes maybe not.
I could stop the time, the moment, the car who let me in this furious feeling of impotence.

The body goes through this land, between paths and time, dying slowly until the soul ends his trail.

It happens that we don’t need to travel world to see the sea, the juicy pages of a book are the best boat and the best plane.

And finally, I was the Guardian of the library. One thousand corridors of high bookshelves that are beyond of my blindness.
All that I can see, is a city of shadows.

25. SHIP
Always, every end of year. We take a ship to go down to the sea, like a dream immersion.

In that night, with the high moon, while I pretend to sleep I can cleary hear the squeak of the door opening and his face emerging from the dark.

Sometimes we have to climb over impossible walls with our own capacities and with our own fear.

28. FALL
Fall asleep, fall in love, fall of night, fall of god.
Fall of fall, fall of all, fall of life, fall along. Fall forever, fall on the shredder. Nothing is worse than fall into you and after, in never.

Between worlds and souls, and in contraries.
Like the moon and the sun.
There is something strange inside the bipolar forces of our mind, dark and light, always united.

Some paths in light make us blind and some in darkness drop us in madness.
Only using the light that shines in dark we can be found.

31. MASK
Like a smile or a word, we make ourselves what we want for the world.
We are a fake smile.
We are what we behold.
As a mirror in water,
we dream this life of matter.
We believe in personality,
that little partiality.
Where is what I am?
Where is the thing without the mask?
Everywhere and nowhere at last.

INKTOBER 2017 | 11-20

11. RUN
When the hardest times arrive, there’s a moment for an impossible run.

The sky of a dream, fades in the shattered clouds of your sad eyes.

The death stone of our existence turns in pureness with the teeming expressions of love.

At the shore, when I look into the sky, looking for a memory, the sea shows me the first time I felt fear, the fierce moment of your death in his immensity.

Behold, beyond of nature, the sacred power of our soul, the swords of truth, brandish between day and night, between day and night.

16. FAT
We all, suffer the same.
We are humans dying under the power of fat monsters.

Those souls who can embrace their sword will know the science of the cobra.
The magic of the light.
The miracle of the night.

I’ve never seen a pair of eyes so beautiful that can hide the filthy presence of a demon.
The eyes of a woman always say the truth.

The kid keeps talking over and over, about a giant that eats his favourite Cloud. He cries more, cause he is too young to take seriously that his cloud has been devoured.

20. DEEP
We all know a lot of things that are deep, but none of them is more profound than the soul, as the universe beneath our eyes.

INKTOBER 2017 | 01-10

Este inktober colaboraremos, el buen Andrés Duran con algún texto y yo con la tinta siguiendo la lista oficial.

Sigan su instagram en: @diablitoconsueter

01. FLY
Y volaré, quizá huyendo de un precipicio, quizá huyendo de ti, quizá de mi.

El universo es eso que se divide entre la vida y la muerte.

En algún momento el primer veneno fue nombrado y con ello entendido que es nuestra boca el origen de toda sustancia venenosa.
Olvidamos el veneno de nuestra lengua.

El cristal de tu ojo derecho, no es más bello que el cielo del izquierdo, ambos apenas dignos del océano de tu voz que me sumerge el cuerpo bajo el agua de tu nombre.

05. LONG
Soy el eterno arrebato de la espera, un hombre con una vida tan larga como el cabello pueda crecer, temo que algún día pare. No sé que será antes, si el cabello o esta larga vida.

La leyenda cuenta de un samurai que dejó la espada en el corazón de su amada, en espera de unas manos dignas que recobren el acero del corazón ya hecho piedra.

07. SHY
The habit of a Shy is the tangled hands the blurry face and the dust clothes of night.

The crooked hand of man, has destroyed the spiral nature life.

Nobody can hear my screech, nobody can feel mi fear, only the rain, like a thousand tears.

The first time I saw my eyes on the moon, I felt her lonliness, the gigantic presure of a void on her light.

De cajeta y pinura

Desde hace unos meses ha estado trabajando en una serie de pinturas en acrílico para la fábrica de cajeta La Vencedora, en Celaya Gto.

El avance ha sido lento y aún hace falta trabajar mucho más pero he aquí algunos detalles del trabajo.