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fear / fear

In a few weeks I´ll be crossing the ocean to visit my parents, I´ll be crossing the ocean in an airplane of course. Which I am terrified of. I do not like flying, I dread even the moment of buying the ticket, and I am already nervous and anxious about something that will happen in 3 weeks; and when I am really in the plane it will be even worst. To me, flying in a ton heavy metal thing is the most unnatural of things, it is not right.I feel claustrophobic, I feel I have no control at all - my life is at mercy of chain of people whom I just hope are doing their job well - . I am aware of the slightest change within the plane, sound, movement etc., I look at the stewardess´ faces to see if they look calm, I am even afraid to flush the toilett (I do it, but always imagining something horrible might happen). Why did humans decided to invest their time and energy in inventing airplanes instead of doing better ships, or trains. My dream is a bridge crossing the atlantic ocean and a nice comfortable train gliding on it (the bridge over the water, not a tunnel under the water please!) I know ships can sink, trains can be derailed, but still I am on the ground. On the other hand I hate this paralyzing fear , which is getting worst as the years past. What I am afraid of really? of losing control, possibly, of dying - the thought of never seeing my loved ones again-, specially now that I feel happy and content; yes this is one of my greatest fears. In this moment I miss being a religious person, I have no belief in any form of after life, heavens or anything of the sorts, so yes, death scares me horribly and by flying I feel that my chances of dying increase. And I have no idea how to control this fear, before on longer flights I took tranquilizers which did not really help beacuse I just became slow but the fear was still ringing at the back of my head. In the plane I can´t read, I can´t concentrate on a film, I can´t listen to music, let alone sleep. So I just suffer as long as the plane is up in the air. On one side I feel so happy about seeing My Parents and friends, But this feeling is clouded by the dread of the 12 hours I'll Have to spend in the plane.

the drawings I did A Few weeks ago for a group exhibition

In a weeks I will cross the ocean to visit my family, of course I'll go by plane. I have terrified of airplanes. I do not like flying, my ordeal begins even from the time in which buy the ticket and early and I'm anxious, nervous and as we approach the day is worse and not to mention the time when I'll be on the plane. for my flight in a metal machine that weighs tons is the most unusual thing in the world, not right. I feel claustrophobic, and my life is in the hands of a group of people I hope those who have done their job. when I'm on the plane I am aware of the slightest noise and movement, I am aware of the faces or hostess to see if they are calm or scared, terrified me eventually the water in the bathroom (note that if I do but thinking this trivial act, the plane will fall). Because humans are spending time and energy occurred in inventing airplanes, why not improve the boats and trains? my dream is a bridge across the Atlantic yun comfortable train that Deliz on, that if it would be a trip! I know it may sink ships and trains derailed, but even so one is on earth (ok, or water). On the other hand I do not like to have this paralyzing fear which increases with age, but not to do to not have it. A fear that I have really? not to be in control of the situation, if, to die and not be more with the people masters, absolutely. I'm not a religious person, in my moments of fear I would like to be. in three weeks I expect 12-hour flight, the first part, and then scale another 5 or 6 hours, hours that I can not read, listen to music or watch the movie, hours of absolute terror.

drawings I made a few weeks ago for a group exhibition.

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reading / reading what remains ....

At 4:30 pm it gets dark and the trees are now almost bare, but it is still autumn, and today there was sun and light in this time of year when there is none. A few weeks ago I discovered the persimmon, or kaki, a fruit that tastes like all the fruits together and sweet, sweet, all my breakfast one day. drawing today in honor of this. Today

finished reading The Philosopher and the Wolf, Mark Rowlands. Even I can not put many plabra to this reading, because I get a lump in my throat. Rowlands is a contemporary philosopher who bought the early nineties a wolf cub 6 weeks and lived together for 11 years. The book tells what he learned of Brenin Rowlands, the wolf, but in reality the book is a reflection on what makes us human (we are not very good standing), about love, death and life. It is a tremendously moving book. And although today we finished reading, I will leave my bedside table, because it's the books I want to be around and reread in a bit.

Already At 4:30 pm is dark and the trees Are Practically naked, But it is still autumn, and today it WAS sunny. the light, When There Is, at this time of the year is superb. A Few weeks ago I rediscovered the persimmon, or kaki, a fruit that tastes like all fruits put together and it´s sweet sweet. everyday now I am eating one for breakfast; today´s drawing: a persimmon, therefore.

I just finished reading The Philosopher and the Wolf  by Mark Rowlands. I still have no words for it, because somehow a knot in my throat forms. The book is the story of what Rowlands, a contemporary philosopher, learned from his wolf Brenin. But the book is not so much about the 11 years they spent together, but it is more a reflection about what makes us human, about life, death, love. The book is utterly moving. I need to let it sink, and then porbably re read it in parts.

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the remainder of the fall, what remains of memories, as if we left crumbs of bread to remind us of the way you came but the wind takes them, and autumn leaves that the wind blows, the floats and then fall desordenamante. it is as if the memories were so often in the head, messy, or is it a mess and makes wind down creating new random patterns. It also seems that as we age we remember most things that were more guarded, and forget things immediate or long ago. I can hardly remember the names of the characters of Harry Potter for example, but I remember things from my childhood. Yesterday I saw the film Persepolis made from Marjane Satrapi's books, but had already read the books I wanted, for some time, watch the movie and I loved it as much as the books, but at the same time made me even more sad moments and cry, cry a lot. the relationship you have with your grandmother, there are pictures as beautiful as when it tells us that every night the grandmother floated undressing jasmine flowers which was placed inside the bra. and his grandfather and uncles communists. I thought a lot about my grandfather. one thing was what happened in the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe and another thing the old communist utopia before, who were just in countries where communists being communists was a crime, a bad word. these men and women had their life and heart into a utopia of which were convinced that it would be for a better world. My grandfather was a good man, upright, died and fallen after the berlin wall and never asked what he thought of all that, perhaps more so because it would have maybe a little heart broken to see what had become everything in which he believed. I think there is a huge difference between those who were Communists out of communist countries and the agent to whom he lived in them. who lived in communist countries have not lived a dream that also cost them jail, exile and sometimes life. so sometimes when I see a hammer and sickle or a picture of Marx I have mixed feelings because first of all I think of my grandfather and not on what systems were called communists. here in Europe can not really explain this, but I saw so clearly reflected in Persepolis, the children in the 70's and the illusion they had the greatest time for a better world was possible.

At the Beginning of this blog I wrote the texts in Inglés and English, now I translate less and less and I apologize to Those Who Do Not speak English. There Are Some Things, memories, That Are Just To Be Written in one language, as this post Above. as a small resume: it has to do with the film Persepolis and how it made me remember my grandfather, and the random Appearances of memories