Archive for the ‘ Quotes ’ Category

Love is a portion of the soul itself, and it is of the same nature as the celestial breathing of the atmosphere of paradise.

— victor hugo
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Baloons and dreams!

Me encanta esta película! Up. Voy a juntar muuuchos muuchos globos para irme a un lugar especial en diciembre.

M.

“La vida es un cuento narrado por un idiota, llena de un sonido y una  furia que nada significan”

William Shakespeare

En este día

Bendita sea tu pureza
y eternamente lo sea,
pues todo un dios se recrea
en tan graciosa belleza.
A ti, celestial Princesa,
Virgen Sagrada María,
yo te ofrezco en este día
Alma, vida y corazón.
Mírame con compasión,
no me dejes, Madre mía.

Dejarle ir a la persona que amas no es lo mismo que dejarla de amar. (Lilith Saintcrow)

To let go, in my case it has never been by choice. I was once the girl that captivated the eyes of a serious, respectable and silent man. In his last years of life nobody held his attention like I did, all his free time at home we would spend together or go out to the park or the bakery shop to get ice cream or sweets. His love for photography left a thousand memories without date or place, only representing the love he felt for me. Marianita, ¿cuándo viene su papá? el jueves. We would visit his many friends and usually someone would be recording it on video. Yes, I was that little girl, silent, curious, colorfully dressed by my mom, picking flowers and with bright eyes. Friends of my parents would say: esa niña va a ser inteligente, siempre calladita pero muy curiosa. He was a man whom I don’t know much about, but I wish I knew everything. He was the general, and as such almost everyone would be at his feet, everyone except my mom, how funny it was how they came to meet. I only got to know the story 9 years after he was gone.

He told me some words I will never forget, and that yet today guide me, while my mother was chasing me around the house for me to do my homework (always hard to catch for my mother, and always looking for refuge behind my father). After he made her calm down, he sat me in his lap and said, I know that one day you’ll be a great student, I have no doubt about it, but you must not worry, follow what your mother says but never forget to live. A few days afterwards and for a long decade I had no place to hide, I disconnected myself from everything except from the moon and the stars. The window to my soul was as empty as the window that reflected the night sky, or as full with emotions as it is black.

A thousand times I’ve said goodbye. When it wasn’t the mysterious something that would scare me in Bambi, then it was my best friend going away to Chile because the times had changed over there and her family would get a new start after the dictatorship they had lived and avoided being here.

Maybe it was reading Who has taken my cheese? or whatever the title in English was, and trying to explain it to my seventh grade friends, or maybe just life as it came: pure, simple, quiet. But I managed to do what all those boring books say, to stop and admire the small things. Then somehow I set my mind to be happy. Last year, almost one year exactly, I only wished for one thing. As I was in an art exhibition at my faculty I was admiring how these other students could so easily give a part of themselves to those watching their art and I wondered how great that must feel, to let anybody know who you are in the most peculiar ways. But there’s a catch, you need to have something to show, just like in every business you must have something to sell. And so I wished for me to be able to experiment life, being ready (or maybe not) for anything that could happen.

Some people just say I’m too lucky to walk in this city the way I do and to return perfectly safe or to take people inside my home who I barely know. But all I know is that I will not stop doing so. The greatness in life lies in the things that you are yet to meet.

M.

The only thing you need to know is what you wish for

As I introduce myself into this blog, my first so far, but somewhere we have start by, right? This blog will carry my stories, little pieces of my memories that have been waiting to get out and thanks to a friend, who I love and gave me an idea to write a book with them, will now get a chance to be shared with you.

I think the best way to start is to tell a little bit about myself. My name is Mariana, it comes from the virgin Mary and my grandmother’s name Ana María. Many people tell me I’m the image of my mom, some used to say I was the vivid portrait of my grandma, all I really know is that I have my father’s feet, hands, and this weird feeling (not shared by my mother) of walking fast when I’m in a mall looking at stores. Of my mom I share her attitude, her hair, and just every measure in my body, which is exceptionally great due to her great sense of style and a closet full of clothes. If there’s one thing that I love for sure those are my cousins, the ones that played with me at young age, making “houses” using my grandma’s sheets and covers and laying them all over the patio and acting as if we were normal grown up people, maybe the part that I loved the most was when everyone started to leave and my mom would shout at me to pick everything up while my grandma would be making signs behind her back for me to just leave it as it was, there would always be a closet full of clean sheets for us to play with. I also remember when my cousins and I dug out what was left of a gigantic root, considering we were all just kids and how difficult it had been for my grandfather to do it himself, none of the adults worried, hours later we had filled the hole with water and were enjoying it as if it was a pool; five kids drenched and covered by a brownish color, no human expression can be compared to that which our mothers had on their faces when they saw us.

Lately I’ve noticed the relation things have with the reaction they cause on my mom, y mi predilección por aquellas que usualmente no le caerían muy bien o que probablemente como ella dice, le dan un susto y no la dejan dormir tranquila y que quizás algún día le den un ataque al corazón ¡Dios no quiera! Éstas serán las cosas que aquí contaré.
As you might have noticed there will be parts that I may write in English and others in Spanish, you, the reader must not jump these, that way I might be able to take a smile from your face even from so far away.

Mariana M.