The last way

For her it was all over, the shit had covered her eyes and she never really knew why. His life had been getting more and more complicated, little by little, without realizing it, until he found himself with no way out. Now, sitting on an old fruit box, she was preparing the shot of that filth that always made her fly and that, paradoxically, was the only thing that helped her escape. Flying up, very high, opening your arms, feeling like a princess, queen of the world and light as a feather, beautiful and virginal. Then he fell hopelessly, his world was once again the cruel fucking world he had lived in, without hope and without a future. But she didn't care about the fall, hope or future, she never cared about breaking her neck after a good trip, it was worth it for her, because she had no other way out, she never had it or if she did, she rode her grey horse.

He looked for a vein where he could hardly get a puncture, and found one in his right ankle, the last line. He took the white lady, put her in the spoon and thought "a lot of butter for this trip". But she didn't care and went on with the cursed ritual that lifted her up to heaven. She flew again, but this time she felt so different, so different, that she saw herself lying near the cardboard and plywood shack, with the syringe, a thousand uses, hanging from her ankle, as if it were just another appendage of her body.

Soon after, she heard her father's voice calling out to her, turned around and there she was at the end of a path of light. He was also able to recognize his brother, who was just as he was when he left and his grandparents had not changed either. He walked towards the light; at last it was all over.

Source of the images: Pixabay and @talentclub

The worm looking at the Danube

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This is the worm that looks at the Danube and measures no more than 10 centimeters.

A half party

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The party's over.

Shoes to remember

These shoes remind us that history can be repeated and we can never allow it.

Source of the images: Own

Metallic Orgy

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Love has these things. God raises them and they unite.

Spreading the wings

This sculpture impressed me in Budapest which is on the Buddha side.

Good Morning

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A new day begins in Budapest

Last night you loved me like never before

Last night you loved me like never before; your kisses were passionate darts, your tongue, a lustful hurricane and your caresses, furious waves breaking with frenzy in me. You went through my body as if seeking water in the desert, drinking the sweat of my pores, to quench the thirst of the lust storm that was raging within you. I let myself be carried away, like a feather in the torrent of your unbridled passion, by the pleasure of feeling myself the object of your desire and the rapture of your sex.

Source of the images: Pixabay and @talentclub

Budapest.

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Esta es una de las primeras fotografías del primer día de mi estancia en Budapest.

This is one of the first pictures of the first day of my stay in Budapest..

Todo quedará atrás

Cuando se dio cuenta, estaba caminando por la circunvalación en dirección al inmenso puente que volaba sobre el barranco de Guiniguada. La decisión ya estaba tomada, ya no había vuelta atrás. Sus piernas iban ligeras, parecía que levitaba, queriendo acabar con aquello lo antes posible. Pero su cerebro buscaba razones para permanecer, para la supervivencia, suplicando que el asfalto se convirtiera en arenas movedizas y que le impidieran llegar al puente. Pero había que seguir adelante.

Lo había dejado todo escrito, todo ordenado, ¿cómo iba a dejarlo, si no? Ella que siempre fue así, como quería todo el mundo que fuera, una mujer de su casa, una perfecta esposa y una maravillosa madre. Un hermoso embalaje que envolvía a un ser que se estaba pudriendo por dentro. No, -pensó- no había otra salida. Y si la había, ella no quería tomarla.

Llegó al puente, sacó su reproductor mp3 con el que caminaba más de una hora todos los días, para olvidarse del mundo por unas horas y quemar el hastío y la tristeza que le salían por cada poro de su piel. Lo encendió y comenzó a escuchar Yesterday, sí, Yesterday, una canción perfecta para ella, para su final, para su muerte. Se subió al puente no sin dificultad. Los automovilistas tocaban la pita como creyendo que, su sonido estridente, era una red salvadora, pero no lo era, ella no los oía, solo escuchaba a Sinatra, a su voz cautivadora, a nadie más. Y saltó al vacío. Sintió el aire frío en su cara y como la fuerza de la gravedad la llevaba hasta el fondo del barranco, a romperse la cabeza en mil pedazos contra la piedras sin remedio. Cerró los ojos y pensó en sus hijos, en su madre, en su primer amor, en todos los que fueron, en todos los que no. Después solo oscuridad. Pero al llegar al final, una fuerza incontrolable la elevó hacia lo más alto del cielo. Estoy volando -se dijo- volando. Entonces, lo comprendió, estaba soñando, porque solo se volaba en sueños.

Al despertar se sentó en el borde de la cama y recordó que hacía muchos años que no soñaba con volar, desde que era un niña. Soñar con volar la hacía feliz. Buscó el significado para aquel sueño y lo encontró.

Vio amanecer y después se fue, dejando una pequeña nota a sus hijas y a su marido; tenía que volar.

Fuente de las imágenes: Pixabay

The illusion

She knew it; she was beautiful and she was there to be eaten and slowly. Men stopped to look at her without blushing, driven by the ancestral instinct of possessing the beautiful and perpetuating the species. The women tried to understand where so much beauty came from, wanting to buy some hours of their perfection. From the day I saw her, I sneaked up on her, with the hidden desire to possess her, to have every inch of her body in my hands, to feel the spell of her beauty and the warm touch of her lips bathed in lipstick.

I chased her shadow through the corners she passed by, trying to pick up the invisible trail of her perfume, and hold it like a treasure in my brain and recover it again in the darkness of the night, like a miser, to throw myself into the abyss of solitary pleasure.

One time he stopped to look at me and smiled at me. I didn't know how to react. I was petrified, watching him go down the street, as I picked up the ruins of his smile with my hands and tried to control the heat of my passion by palpitating in my crotch.

A few days later, I found her after leaving a couture shop. I approached her, she recognized me and smiled at me. I jumped off the cliff and said:

"I'd love to take you out to dinner."

She looked at me in a way I will never forget and I felt like a helpless dog crossing the highway in the middle of the night, on a cold, rainy day. Alone and without her.

There I began to understand the immense desert between me and her. I tried to forget her, but I couldn't. Even today, I sneak up on her, hiding in the shadows like a wretch to drink a little of her beauty and quench the thirst for my lust.

Image source: Pixabay 

Follow the imprint

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Sometimes you just have to follow the footsteps.

Photograph taken with Acer Liquid Z630 .

The lie

That everything would change, they said, and that everything would be different. After a while he understood why they had lied.

Source of the images: Pixabay and @talentclub

If you want to read more of my posts, go to my profile: @moises-moran

Talentclub] (https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://goo.gl/Aqw44z)

Orchid worker

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This beautiful orchid accompanies my colleagues at work and I think there is no better company.

Photograph taken with Acer Liquid Z630

Simplicity of beauty

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Some flowers are so beautifully simple that sometimes they overwhelm us.

Photograph taken with Acer Liquid Z630

Temporal obsession

He was so obsessed with time that he had digital clocks in every corner of his house. Her life was controlled by a digital hand. One day he got up and found that they had been stolen. He sat on the couch and let himself die because, without a watch, his life was meaningless. He spent the days watching the sun rise and fall and how life went by outside his home. On the third day he got up, with an urgent desire to eat. Then he realized that time was just a perspective on the prism of his life.

Image source: Pixabay  and @talentclub

Lectura y mar

You want the winter to come

I know you want winter to come. That you don't like summer, the sun, the beach, or its cumbersome sand. I also know that you don't like the darkness, nor the stale smell of humidity, that gets in your way even the most hidden of your fibers. That you wait until they open the doors and free you from the dirty wood of this old wardrobe and walk in the city parks again; but don't forget that this is the fate of the cloth coats.

Source of the images: Pixabay and @talentclub

Child and fish

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Other graphite in the series

The child and the fish

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Another spectacular graffiti that is on Las Canteras beach on the island of Gran Canaria.

Photograph taken with Acer Liquid Z630.

Cubist graffiti

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This graffiti caught my attention because it is very different from the ones I have seen in my city.

Photograph taken with Acer Liquid Z630.

Medio minuto para morir

Graffiti of my city

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In my city, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, there is a great fondness for graffiti.

Photograph taken with Acer Liquid Z630.

That's the way to go

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The newt leads the way.

Quieres que llegue el invierno

Ya sé que quieres que llegue el invierno. Que no te gusta el verano, ni el Sol, ni la playa, ni su engorrosa arena. También sé que no te gusta la oscuridad, ni el olor rancio de la humedad, que se te mete hasta la más oculta de tus fibras. Que esperas a que abran las puertas y que te liberen de la madera sucia de este viejo ropero y volver a pasear por los parques de la ciudad; pero no olvides que este es el sino de los abrigos de paño.

Fuente de las imágenes: Pixabay