On life- by Juan M.S
When I do a good deed I cherish the idea that life is fair and will reward me, but when I don’t behave as well as I could, I’m comforted by the knowledge that life is intrinsically unfair.
English
It ain’t whatcha write, It’s the way atcha write it.” – Jack Kerouac
My parents are alive – by Juan M.S.
Based on historical facts 1999, Rosario, Argentina. Elba was a happy 20 year old girl. She lived in a nice flat near the University where she studied economics and she visited her parents almost every weekend. They lived in a… Continue Reading
Wild Tales movie and Argentinean society -by Juan M.S
So, if you want an Argentinean to be humble, dont’ ask him general questions about his country. Ask him rather about the country’s economy or the last worldcup final. What do people who know us say about us? Other South… Continue Reading
There was the terrorism- by Juan M.S
There was the terrorism of a thousand and one nights, the everlasting, ever current waging of never ending wars. There was a face on a shelf, a smile on display and a promise in a showcase. All I wanted was… Continue Reading
You brush your teeth- by Juan M.S
You brush your teeth every day while the coffee of slumber ulcerates my stomach, and you go out to a snow blast while indoors everything dulls my daring. I forget not to sleep while you’re combing your hair, the party… Continue Reading
To others -by Juan M.S
To others the task of singing feelings that relate me to you, I put away my guitar and in its place I play my emotions in low tone strings. The blues of bandoneons reminds me of a song I’m always… Continue Reading
As the day unfurls -by Juan M.S
As the day unfurls its thin hours and convinces me of another solemn end to an evening that repeats itself ad tedium, I see the gray charade of your blue eyes and think of the quantum, the mechanics and the… Continue Reading
The extra finger – by Juan M.S
Emi was almost never in the mood for laughing. She wasn’t a feminist, but she’d been raised without a father and when she was a little girl she’d asked her mother why her brother had a penis and she didn’t… Continue Reading
Fourth song of despair – by Juan M.S.
We’re ugly, but we build love which is the only lasting thing, after we unveil life’s truth and are left with our selves, looking each other in the eye and not seeing instinct anymore but humanity built from choice, from… Continue Reading
Third song of despair -by Juan M.S
You’re leaving me behind, subtly, quietly, methodically, as simply as putting down a book you’ve finished. I wonder what will become of you without me, will you be beautiful without my constant eyes on you? Will you dissolve into existence… Continue Reading