Monday, November 27, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Mexico - Los Angeles
Por David Barraza
10:50 AM. – Personal note. I take a plane with direction to L.A. It’s a crowded flight. Mexicans, Americans, Koreans… a globalizated orgy.
11:30 AM. – Personal note. The man beside me is reading an absurd book: “The Ascent, a story for those who desire to transform their organizations”.
12:45 PM.– Personal note. In front of me there’s a Mexican couple which is constantly kissing and touching their bodies. They are fortunate.
13:30 PM – Personal note. I wake up. The movie in the airplane screens is awful. I watch through the window. The Sonora desert is amazingly beautiful.
13: 35 PM – Personal note. I need the restroom
14: 00 PM – The airplane is arriving to LAX Airport. The view while the landing was exciting. The mountains and the deep blue sea of the bay inspired me to be a constant traveler of this fucking world.
Por David Barraza
10:50 AM. – Personal note. I take a plane with direction to L.A. It’s a crowded flight. Mexicans, Americans, Koreans… a globalizated orgy.
11:30 AM. – Personal note. The man beside me is reading an absurd book: “The Ascent, a story for those who desire to transform their organizations”.
12:45 PM.– Personal note. In front of me there’s a Mexican couple which is constantly kissing and touching their bodies. They are fortunate.
13:30 PM – Personal note. I wake up. The movie in the airplane screens is awful. I watch through the window. The Sonora desert is amazingly beautiful.
13: 35 PM – Personal note. I need the restroom
14: 00 PM – The airplane is arriving to LAX Airport. The view while the landing was exciting. The mountains and the deep blue sea of the bay inspired me to be a constant traveler of this fucking world.


Por David Barraza
Con el alma porteña y el corazón piantao navego por tus aguas. Recorro tus senderos, avenidas y bulevares. Siempre sin tránsito, sin peatones pero con luminosas señales que me indican el trayecto de tu yo más profundo. Al húmedo yo…, si siempre húmedo por ti y tú por mí.
Me subo a tus trenes, respiro tu olor. El trayecto entre un pecho y otro dura cien besos, tres lenguas y cinco mordidas. Luego todo pasa. Prendes la cafetera, la luz y la tele. Hoy vamos a ver Lo que el viento nunca se llevo…