Stories

I’ve always been more comfortable in the water. Not floating over the surface, not sinking either. Just being there, half-way to the bottom; feeling weightless, powerful and powerless, as if I could have the strength to lift the whole weight of the world, but, at the same time, having no chance at all.


“Listen, I think we should leave this place, it’s not safe for us anymore, don’t you see it?” – I keep hearing her last words in my head. A recurrent memory that manages to sound over those stupid human voices. They’re so loud…

She was right, I should’ve left.


– They always give me the goose bumps, and it’s super cold in here, don’t you think?? That must be for a reason.
– Of course it is, this is a huge warehouse, that’s why.
-No… I mean, for a reason. You know, like… I think there is a soul trapped in that hourglass. In fact, I think there are souls trapped all over this prop-house, that’s what makes it so special you know? That’s where it gets all the reviews from. All the buzz comes from the spirits, and I am pretty sure this is accurate. Yes it is. Accurate. The souls, all of it. Let’s take a selfie and go home, I am hungry.


-Somehow staring at him makes me forget the fact that the comet is getting closer, that we’ll probably disappear any second now- Annabel said while focusing on the wrinkles the time had done to the sculpture. The British Library had always been their favourite spot, maybe that’s why she refused to leave.


She pulled off and left the car slowly, very quietly while making sure nobody was after her.


Franklin really enjoyed staring at that ageing sign imagining how the lady got trapped. Sometimes, he hoped that one day she wouldn’t be there anymore, but he always discarded this so quickly. After all, having the possibility of creating new stories every time he crossed the street was more fulfilling than knowing she was finally free.


Sometimes finds calm in the rocking of the waves in days of high-tide, when the Thames is closer to that magical spot.

But much more often is the white noise of cyclists passing by what captures its attention, distracting it from the infinite running of the clock, from the loneliness of that spot and the irony of being the main character in one place where nobody stops to admire the beauty of its structure. The irony of having everything while having nothing at all.


carmenmorago.com-barcelona-streetphotography

“Ssshhhhhush… Can you hear them??” – said Marina sticking her face to the wall.

“I swear, I cannot! And you are starting to look like a crazy person”- Rita was already feeling quite annoyed but secretly curious. What was Marina hearing on the other side??


They used to run back and forth between sunrise and sunset to capture every shade of red.


Before the new beginning cities rose in glass and steel. They are all destroyed now, skyscrapers are skeletons and the winter sun doesn’t reflect on their architecture anymore.


Do you still want to something to read?

She said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had dust on her fingers from touching the light bulbs

Franny. Franny and Zooey. J.D. Sallinger
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