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ALL ABOUT.

Normal

often we skate through life with one foot in the past and one in the future, while this is passing between the legs like a gentle breeze that barely perceive. "It is less for the weekend" or "that those times!".

we speak is almost always to refer to a past or a future possibility. In short Sometimes this alchemical container, called the body, gets to be conscious of our vital transit, leaving tyrannized by this time invented by man .

holidays spent with his load of excited desires. Exotic landscapes, more imagined than real, have been in the past.

As the flycatchers that now fill the Linear Park after his summer residence Northwest Europe in returning to Africa for the winter, we returned to our cubicle-dwellers in the gray glass city.

I go for a walk and after a while I sit in a troubled urban neighborhood bank, with some elders. Two friends chat about the contract that you are just one and the prolonged stoppage of another. Observe how children play locked in a particular property. I hear the song blind from the lights and the sound of the engine, feeling in my nose the smell of garbage containers and air dry the trees enslaved debug unable sidewalk. A normal urine altered old at the curb wild little animal which, in the eyes of two young girls away very standardized. I decide to migrate.

I reach this small green island called Palomeras Linear Park and let my tension is lost sight among the clouds that dot the evening decorated with the silhouettes of melia and the staccato singing tit and Pied Flycatcher.

I see myself reflected on the generations of hikers who walk before me. Young people full of future, higher with treasured past, and now felt in a deep breath humidified by the grove of acer, acacias and cinnamon.

few hours ago my mind was congested due to the urgent normal to achieve the planned work objectives, to make the camel of my emotions and lose consciousness of being and end in a battle of wounded egos.

Now I'ma little more aware of human folly we call normal, since this small personal retreat that allows me to see the beauty of the "bugs" beyond their supposed ugliness.

But until this magic moment new moon has passed. For this reason, I fill my lungs to returning to the road in my transience, while others prey on build what eventually will have to leave.