Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Lorena Herrerafotos Encuerada
Music - blonde redhead - love or prison ( listen while you read)
Photography - mc - canon 450D f / 8 1 / 60 sec
Shut your mouth. Shut your mouth. Shut your mouth. Shut your mouth. Shut your mouth. Shut your mouth. Inside the skeleton of a whale. Yellow by time. He walks with difficulty, his torso bent forward and some dragonfly that rises in step. Itching behind up at the base of the neck connected to the balloon called difference-from-primates. Balloon colored stripes: red-yellow-orange-purple-indigo-black-black-black-green-blue-black. Well. Bi-year-old and e. Notes
raised by staff. What a read! Nate there, on white spaces, cut by some wires suspend the blacks gray along roads, in blue day, with the red sun of the evening that makes the air vibrate Asphalt brown streaked with white.
Rhythm, that of rain, the sound, that of those Russian plane in the morning. The nose, closed. The lips, as well. While I laugh and watch the shadows .. nose, eyebrows, small ears, cheek glued to the cushion, foot resting on the shoulder. I see, up close, the distance that separates the idea of \u200b\u200bthe reality of snoring snoring. Plan. It does not give much trouble. A slight smile to see the breath that moves the belly with a regular time. The noise of snoring scratched from typical cold. A cat purrs.
Finished the time. a new day. more night.
good
Rhythm, that of rain, the sound, that of those Russian plane in the morning. The nose, closed. The lips, as well. While I laugh and watch the shadows .. nose, eyebrows, small ears, cheek glued to the cushion, foot resting on the shoulder. I see, up close, the distance that separates the idea of \u200b\u200bthe reality of snoring snoring. Plan. It does not give much trouble. A slight smile to see the breath that moves the belly with a regular time. The noise of snoring scratched from typical cold. A cat purrs.
Finished the time. a new day. more night.
good
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Does Rubbing Coke On Your
albums and boxes, handmade
.. almost 20 days have passed since the last post, but the work in the shop did not allow me to do a lot ... and time enough then wet did not dry my cards ...
two albums, then I could not even pay him a picture .. I had to deliver them quickly: (
autumnal colors of course ... but still Aihm are made from acrylic tempera
... I would like to deepen the color with paint more natural ...
from plants or flowers ...
some dyeing with plants and flowers is not a simple thing .. I tried to immerse pink hydrangea flowers in a jar to get a pink .. and came out the mold :(....
but one day I can also do the dyeing of paper ...
to finish the last album used a cotton fiber ... a4
.. almost 20 days have passed since the last post, but the work in the shop did not allow me to do a lot ... and time enough then wet did not dry my cards ...
two albums, then I could not even pay him a picture .. I had to deliver them quickly: (
autumnal colors of course ... but still Aihm are made from acrylic tempera ... I would like to deepen the color with paint more natural ...
from plants or flowers ...
some dyeing with plants and flowers is not a simple thing .. I tried to immerse pink hydrangea flowers in a jar to get a pink .. and came out the mold :(.... 
but one day I can also do the dyeing of paper ...
to finish the last album used a cotton fiber ... a4 Monday, November 1, 2010
Why Does Water Dry My Mouth
ten ten ten to midnight to midnight
Mus ica - death cab for cutie - a Lack of color ( listen while you read)
Mus ica - death cab for cutie - a Lack of color ( listen while you read)
Photography - mc - barcelona - canon 450D t: 1 / 6 f/5.6
The first fog always amazes me. The issues even if you do not know, even if they are several years that you find yourself in front of the nose in the morning when you are not yet awake and walking, or looking out the window at night before bed or in the car while you have pictures of the curves front and you separate it from later, from where you should go. The issues and you still wonder why it is a curtain. Lightweight. Translucent. Clean. Near enough not to let you know how far is what is before you. Mysterious. Stationary, but slowly and you know it moves. In equilibrium. Nature. Odious. Melancholy. Smell of water that will not come soon, because if the cloudy curtain that will certainly not see. Even the sounds are not the same, you get muffled, slow and just distorted.
That curtain, perhaps only those who lived in the Po plain can see through the eyes of the viewer in the theater.
The the first thing that comes to mind passing through the tongue is white and moist ... is a walk, a certain kind of walk. I try in my head and see, between memory and imagination, walking the city in July with a blank look, you and you pretty close, not always on the sidewalk so that machines do not go, to listen to the silence ' each other, to better hear the windows. What windows? Those that remain open in the summer and make you listen to the life that lies beyond, in there and pushing to get out. Look dishes that go away by empty tables, televisions, speakers and trying to cover up the silence that you put between the people, genuine laughter and relax in the summer because there is more ...
The picture speaks of the windows. A Barcelona. The song of the fog. Everywhere.
Two discoveries: views from outside the windows and fog seen from within.
Finished the time. a new day. more night.
good
The first fog always amazes me. The issues even if you do not know, even if they are several years that you find yourself in front of the nose in the morning when you are not yet awake and walking, or looking out the window at night before bed or in the car while you have pictures of the curves front and you separate it from later, from where you should go. The issues and you still wonder why it is a curtain. Lightweight. Translucent. Clean. Near enough not to let you know how far is what is before you. Mysterious. Stationary, but slowly and you know it moves. In equilibrium. Nature. Odious. Melancholy. Smell of water that will not come soon, because if the cloudy curtain that will certainly not see. Even the sounds are not the same, you get muffled, slow and just distorted.
That curtain, perhaps only those who lived in the Po plain can see through the eyes of the viewer in the theater.
The the first thing that comes to mind passing through the tongue is white and moist ... is a walk, a certain kind of walk. I try in my head and see, between memory and imagination, walking the city in July with a blank look, you and you pretty close, not always on the sidewalk so that machines do not go, to listen to the silence ' each other, to better hear the windows. What windows? Those that remain open in the summer and make you listen to the life that lies beyond, in there and pushing to get out. Look dishes that go away by empty tables, televisions, speakers and trying to cover up the silence that you put between the people, genuine laughter and relax in the summer because there is more ...
The picture speaks of the windows. A Barcelona. The song of the fog. Everywhere.
Two discoveries: views from outside the windows and fog seen from within.
Finished the time. a new day. more night.
good
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