Friday, January 11, 2008


If the white light of this lamp
is real, and real
the hand that writes,
are the eyes real
that look at what I write?

One word follows another.
What I saw vanishes.
I know that I am alive,
and living between two parentheses.

Octavio Paz
(translation JM Cohen)

Nothing is like we think it is. Michael... this is for you (with all my heart)

1 comment:

Kim said...

Belinda, this is beautiful. I found your blog (through a post you left at Messyjessie) and am so enjoying your words and your art. I will visit you often, to be sure. I invite you to visit my blog sometime.