tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70721901844728699672011-08-23T16:58:05.608-07:00Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.comBlogger781100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-56149256025315907752010-08-05T13:23:00.000-07:002010-08-05T13:28:58.945-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/TFseGC7P1TI/AAAAAAAABB0/pnUmm-MZaC8/s1600/053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502024458976613682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/TFseGC7P1TI/AAAAAAAABB0/pnUmm-MZaC8/s400/053.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"> tengo un corazón.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5614925602531590775?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-90832748367890694112010-02-15T13:26:00.000-08:002010-07-21T16:25:14.260-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/S3m89Unze8I/AAAAAAAABBc/9th78FQvi5w/s1600-h/S6000308.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438585786720287682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/S3m89Unze8I/AAAAAAAABBc/9th78FQvi5w/s400/S6000308.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Amamanta a granos<br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">a sus gallinas felices.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Texto: Carlos Molina</span></em></div><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-9083274836789069411?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-8170507363911754442010-01-30T13:59:00.000-08:002010-01-30T14:00:21.579-08:00<div align="center"><a href="http://www.diassinperros.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:180%;">www.diassinperros.blogspot.com</span></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-817050736391175444?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-54648031635612473002009-10-20T11:29:00.000-07:002009-10-20T11:49:32.567-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;">..."en la ciudad vacía</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">donde llora la luna"....</span><br /><br /><em>Guadalupe Noble</em><br /><em></em><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/St4CXpHmSVI/AAAAAAAAA_k/6AV6Hb4dJpk/s1600-h/S6002813.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394752008834402642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/St4CXpHmSVI/AAAAAAAAA_k/6AV6Hb4dJpk/s400/S6002813.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5464803163561247300?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-2846021815749409902009-08-06T11:53:00.000-07:002009-08-06T12:04:11.667-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SnspAZvNVlI/AAAAAAAAA90/v1lZ2Ibn1DM/s1600-h/S6001949.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366928467827709522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SnspAZvNVlI/AAAAAAAAA90/v1lZ2Ibn1DM/s400/S6001949.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div align="center">A veces el futuro</div><div align="center">tiene unas pocas formas:</div><div align="center">una máquina de coser </div><div align="center">o un campo seco </div><div align="center">una carpintería inmensa </div><div align="center">con cordeles de pájaros</div><div align="center">o dos o tres vaquitas </div><div align="center">que esperan.</div><div align="center">Y eso es la felicidad.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-284602181574940990?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-88199452548308790282009-07-14T18:07:00.000-07:002009-07-14T18:14:33.253-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sl0sHy795fI/AAAAAAAAA9k/ja-eX12sgPg/s1600-h/S6000740.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358487644084758002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sl0sHy795fI/AAAAAAAAA9k/ja-eX12sgPg/s400/S6000740.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">y no hay otra cosa,</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"> la misma puerta </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">para todos los costados o </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">para todos los rincones.</span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8819945254830879028?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-21841792414595098462009-05-17T18:33:00.000-07:002009-05-17T19:01:45.143-07:00<div align="right"><em>..."y cuando nada falta</em></div><div align="right"><em>entonces usted muere".<br /></em></div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Mario Benedetti.</span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336972195643460322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/ShC773l3CuI/AAAAAAAAA80/jM4LLGCr5bc/s400/S6000649.JPG" border="0" /></span></em></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Y palabras saldrán de tu sangre, de tus huesos, de tus uñas, de tu boca. Y será tu cuerpo muerto el alimento de la tierra. Y de la tierra brotarán todas las palabras para los hombres sin alma. </span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2184179241459509846?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-5816989359448736572009-05-09T13:29:00.000-07:002009-05-11T19:04:53.945-07:00<div align="left"><em>... la mujer de mí<br />sigue buscando<br />los borradores<br />olvidados<br />de todos los<br />hombres posibles</em>.<br /><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334751976465422850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 374px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SgjYqGoI2gI/AAAAAAAAA78/TdX6ckFsPSE/s400/S6001208-2.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="left"> </p><p align="right"><em><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></strong></em><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-581698935944873657?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-22531044786710054182009-05-02T16:05:00.000-07:002009-05-02T16:15:23.806-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SfzR2EIOfwI/AAAAAAAAA7E/VMW_7J8PkDw/s1600-h/S6000033.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331366785651212034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 366px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SfzR2EIOfwI/AAAAAAAAA7E/VMW_7J8PkDw/s400/S6000033.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Y si al final no te encuentro</div><div align="center">voy a tener que juntar todas </div><div align="center">las piedras</div><div align="center">o las flores</div><div align="center">para tapar la otra </div><div align="center">mitad vacía.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2253104478671005418?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-71669642888755383032009-05-01T07:51:00.000-07:002009-05-01T10:00:10.663-07:00<div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>..."Al final todos se casan:</em><br /></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>el mar y las olas,</em><br /></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>la noche y lo oscuro,</em><br /></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>el vaso y el vino,</em><br /></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>el anillo y el dedo,</em><br /></span></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">la muerte y el cadáver".</span></em></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Alejandra Pizarnik.</span></em></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></div></em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330869352304691346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SfsNbogjSJI/AAAAAAAAA68/XPZd9T0356s/s400/S6000557.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"></span></strong><span style="font-size:180%;">Pero quién te devuelve la sangre...</span><br /></p><p></p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7166964288875538303?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-51082686401314701142009-04-23T16:30:00.000-07:002009-04-23T17:18:57.243-07:00<div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328034034879347010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SfD6ucAsuUI/AAAAAAAAA6c/yu5LN9sQ7_8/s400/S6000704.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em> Foto: Melina Salman</em></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify">Yo quiero vivir alto, bien arriba.</div><div align="justify">Así puedo ver las esquinas y descubrir cosas encontrables. Hay un señor de sombrero, por ejemplo que siempre dobla a la misma hora. Se detiene un rato, seguramente el tiempo que cree suficiente para que el azar lo sorprenda. Cuando no pasa nada, sigue. Luego aparece la señora de los pasos de hormiga que deja caer minuciosamente papelitos de colores. No sé por qué lo hace. Y casi que los acomoda entre las baldosas esperando que alguien descubra el misterio.</div><div align="justify">Pasan dos colectivos, 10 centímetros de distancia y a segundos de la catástrofe. Otra vez el azar. Quién sabe. </div><div align="justify">Yo siempre pensé que las esquinas se habían inventado para que las cosas se encuentren. No sé. Las líneas de las calles, un asesino y su víctima, los buscadores de historias, los sueños de película francesa, los solos, los aburridos, los apurados y los torpes. </div><div align="justify">Ahora pasa ella, mirala. ¿Ves? ella camina convencida de todas las cosas. </div><div align="justify">Cada vez que llega a una esquina se queda parada. </div><div align="justify">Siempre hace lo mismo. Nunca se cansa de mirar el reloj. Y le alcanzan quince minutos para saber que la esquina era otra.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="right"></div><div align="right"></div><div align="right"></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5108268640131470114?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-76178471132642056272009-04-19T17:35:00.000-07:002009-04-19T17:47:47.897-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SevDoMoD-KI/AAAAAAAAA5s/7r_r8bJ_fXQ/s1600-h/S6000641.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326566079647185058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SevDoMoD-KI/AAAAAAAAA5s/7r_r8bJ_fXQ/s400/S6000641.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ni caballitos de madera</div><div>ni sueños en colores.</div><div>El niño muerto camina</div><div>y acepta entre </div><div>sombras</div><div>la vida a cielo abierto.</div><div> </div><div>En blanco y negro</div><div>el niño contruye</div><div>futuro a fuerza </div><div>de navaja,</div><div>descansa su cuerpo </div><div>condenado entre cartones</div><div>y sueña</div><div>en almohada de cemento</div><div>la vida de calesita </div><div>que nunca fue.</div><div> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7617847113264205627?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-85982021050804139002009-04-17T17:52:00.000-07:002009-04-17T17:53:13.898-07:00Este blog descansa mientras crece su complemento...<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.tubocaenotraboca.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:180%;">www.tubocaenotraboca.blogspot.com</span></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8598202105080413900?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-55846811020714691692009-04-05T09:28:00.000-07:002009-04-05T09:53:04.517-07:00<div align="center">se</div><div align="center">caen</div><div align="center">como</div><div align="center"> h</div><div align="center"> o</div><div align="center"> j</div><div align="center"> a</div><div align="center"> s</div><div align="center">secas</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">los</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321248640005954658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SdjfceUV3GI/AAAAAAAAA2A/14O4a7ZHIXI/s400/S6000566-1.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">de </p><p align="center">los</p><p align="center">amantes. </p><div align="right"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SdjccLw-ZuI/AAAAAAAAA14/C-yR5g3Pkao/s1600-h/S6000566.JPG"></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5584681102071469169?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-49511271798329651372009-03-30T17:10:00.000-07:002009-03-30T17:27:28.811-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SdFfu1q0qaI/AAAAAAAAA1g/69sHhobCGcg/s1600-h/S6000559.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319137893186578850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SdFfu1q0qaI/AAAAAAAAA1g/69sHhobCGcg/s400/S6000559.JPG" border="0" /></a> Espuma.</div><div align="center">Una tormenta blanca cayendo.</div><div align="center">Ese blanco inmenso repitiéndose en</div><div align="center">el cuerpo congelado</div><div align="center">de la mujer perfecta</div><div align="center">de la mujer condenada</div><div align="center">de la mujer muerta.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4951127179832965137?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-27244979373956403912009-03-16T17:41:00.000-07:002009-03-21T10:16:20.059-07:00<div align="right"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sb7yUIoCtEI/AAAAAAAAA0s/upX-4mT5jzE/s1600-h/S6001476.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313951038070502466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sb7yUIoCtEI/AAAAAAAAA0s/upX-4mT5jzE/s400/S6001476.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="left">No era cuestión de tirar una moneda. </div><div align="left">Elegirnos para siempre o </div><div align="left">abandonarnos para siempre.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">El amor era posible</div><div align="left">entre el aire que nos separaba.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Ahora voy a coserme </div><div align="left">este cuerpo dividido</div><div align="left">esta mujer para armar</div><div align="left">y caminar</div><div align="left">caminar de nuevo</div><div align="left">hasta mí.</div><br /><br /><em><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /></strong></em><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2724497937395640391?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-10430030679138470582009-03-03T17:46:00.000-08:002009-03-04T18:04:53.775-08:00<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sa3eDxman6I/AAAAAAAAA0k/-umomi2ktow/s1600-h/S6000544.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309143692175122338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sa3eDxman6I/AAAAAAAAA0k/-umomi2ktow/s400/S6000544.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />ojalá te enamores</div><div align="center">ojalá te enamores</div><div align="center">ojalá te enamores</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">algún día</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">(de mí)<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1043003067913847058?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-719402136853197132009-02-27T17:25:00.000-08:002009-03-01T05:39:31.552-08:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SaiS38JegTI/AAAAAAAAA0U/58NPyYiTJHo/s1600-h/S6000603.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307653650592465202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SaiS38JegTI/AAAAAAAAA0U/58NPyYiTJHo/s400/S6000603.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="right">veinticinco años después</div><div align="right">buscándome en la suciedad</div><div align="right">de las calles que no fueron.</div><div align="right"></div><div align="right"></div><div align="right">desde el primer grito</div><div align="right">hasta el exilio</div><div align="right">armando el rompecabezas</div><div align="right">de la ciudad extirpada,</div><div align="right">juntando a pedazos </div><div align="right">la mujer que se negó</div><div align="right">a la noche</div><div align="right"></div><div align="right">al humo que dibujaba</div><div align="right">una vida sin tiempo.</div><div></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-71940213685319713?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-33505138425993563322009-02-18T14:39:00.000-08:002009-03-01T05:41:17.797-08:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SZyOxa6kX8I/AAAAAAAAAzw/oMk2zYaVuyc/s1600-h/S6000554.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304271440825311170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SZyOxa6kX8I/AAAAAAAAAzw/oMk2zYaVuyc/s400/S6000554.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Una pared oscura te<br />separaba de la vida.<br /><br />El dolor cortándote los huesos<br />un silencio de tumba subiendo hasta la boca.<br /><br />Entonces, Rufina<br />aparecía el blanco<br />un olor de muerte<br />las líneas que dejaste en el cajón<br />y ese grito sordo llevándote<br />para siempre.<br />Para siempre.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-3350513842599356332?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-66769241000369374262009-01-21T19:57:00.000-08:002009-03-01T05:42:07.894-08:00<em><span style="font-size:78%;">A Luciana.</span></em><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SXfvoabi3xI/AAAAAAAAAwY/rQGrNwRGL-M/s1600-h/S6000494.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293963364565966610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SXfvoabi3xI/AAAAAAAAAwY/rQGrNwRGL-M/s400/S6000494.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">, porque hay una felicidad esperándote del otro lado. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Hay que tomar la ruta, el cuerpo sin crimen que condenaste</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">y dejar que los perdones sean de los arrepentidos.</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">(No es pecado amar con este otro cuerpo).</span> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6676924100036937426?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-10316758074690932952009-01-16T18:07:00.000-08:002009-03-01T05:43:05.557-08:00<em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SXE-heH45BI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/CdHMja0l4YI/s1600-h/S6001970.JPG"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292079781879800850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SXE-heH45BI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/CdHMja0l4YI/s320/S6001970.JPG" border="0" /></span></em></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><br /></span></em><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><span style="font-size:180%;">Contando </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">los </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">días </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">para </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">volver </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">a </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">habitarme.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1031675807469093295?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-69908336600086536272009-01-05T12:59:00.000-08:002009-01-05T13:16:54.797-08:00<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SWJ1PETQMqI/AAAAAAAAAvw/KgGeyX5HBbM/s1600-h/S6000384.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287917814199366306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SWJ1PETQMqI/AAAAAAAAAvw/KgGeyX5HBbM/s320/S6000384.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Vas a tener que llevar el aire</div><div align="center">en un par de alas muertas.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Dejar la sangre,</div><div align="center">dejarla para que se hunda </div><div align="center">en la tierra,</div><div align="center">en la boca del que acecha</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">y volver a latir.</div><br /><br /><div align="right"> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Fo<em>to: Melina Salman</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6990833660008653627?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-23157524307544144632008-12-15T09:00:00.000-08:002008-12-15T09:14:09.037-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SUaN9wiJkSI/AAAAAAAAAvU/g57Opg6SmdY/s1600-h/S6000053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280063705278157090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SUaN9wiJkSI/AAAAAAAAAvU/g57Opg6SmdY/s400/S6000053.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p align="justify">El filo del tiempo dibuja en el cuerpo los primeros dolores. Al comienzo sólo es un dibujo blanco, una línea apenas parecida a una caricia triste. Después el frío, el rojo, metiéndose más adentro, tomando la sangre y los huesos. Entonces hay que elegir, colgarse con los otros para que duela menos, o dejar que el filo nos deje caer, buscar la sombra, elegir la otra cachetada.</p><p align="justify"> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></strong></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2315752430754414463?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-20666808309172204742008-12-04T18:57:00.000-08:002008-12-09T10:35:08.259-08:00<div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/STiZOCf3JXI/AAAAAAAAAvE/zs0YjJpsZ4w/s1600-h/Copia+de+S6000421.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276135429932262770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/STiZOCf3JXI/AAAAAAAAAvE/zs0YjJpsZ4w/s400/Copia+de+S6000421.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">De nuevo, buscando la forma en el desorden de las cosas, una imagen difusa entre el negro, la silueta de un hombre negándose a mí. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span> </em></div><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2066680830917220474?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-80311879052001358662008-11-22T13:24:00.000-08:002008-11-28T08:37:45.607-08:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SSh5Duz-KCI/AAAAAAAAAoo/8PMAY-UBdfA/s1600-h/S6000118.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271596468849748002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SSh5Duz-KCI/AAAAAAAAAoo/8PMAY-UBdfA/s400/S6000118.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Todo se llenó de palabras.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Palabras bajando del micro</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">arriba de los árboles</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">en los bancos de la plaza</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">en lugares abanadonados</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">entre amores clandestinos</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">cruzando las calles.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">(recordaban </span><span style="font-family:arial;">la existencia </span><span style="font-family:arial;">de las cosas).</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8031187905200135866?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-59408544848594545302008-11-16T18:06:00.000-08:002008-11-16T18:17:10.845-08:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SSDSxDartpI/AAAAAAAAAog/zeptegSSjQw/s1600-h/S6000292.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269443304196126354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SSDSxDartpI/AAAAAAAAAog/zeptegSSjQw/s400/S6000292.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Ella jugaba al pasado.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Buscaba en otro tiempo </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">llenar los huecos </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">espantar el ruido</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">volver a ser </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">muñeca de trapo.</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5940854484859454530?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-63706950955015326182008-11-12T07:32:00.000-08:002008-11-12T13:29:09.832-08:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SRtJZj0WTWI/AAAAAAAAAoY/_UxIW_p3GtI/s1600-h/S6000156.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267884892600290658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SRtJZj0WTWI/AAAAAAAAAoY/_UxIW_p3GtI/s320/S6000156.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div align="center"><br />Entre hueco y hueco</div><div align="center">-coladores de la vida-,</div><div align="center">se nos cae el pasado.<br /></div><div align="center">Las cosas se desprenden</div><div align="center">a chorros</div><div align="center">vaciamos el recuerdo </div><div align="center">y quedamos</div><div align="center">chatos, sin nada.<br /></div><div align="center">Cada vez más oscuros,</div><div align="center">cada vez más perfectos </div><div align="center">cada vez más deseados</div><div align="center">en el mundo masticable.</div><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto:Melina Salman</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6370695095501532618?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-72212284053765181242008-11-11T09:51:00.000-08:002008-11-11T10:21:51.867-08:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SRnNCxgPaaI/AAAAAAAAAoI/DlbBnQYzfIY/s1600-h/S6000197.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267466686718503330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SRnNCxgPaaI/AAAAAAAAAoI/DlbBnQYzfIY/s320/S6000197.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SRnMPoXSQBI/AAAAAAAAAoA/VarOJujSue8/s1600-h/S6000191.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267465808091693074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SRnMPoXSQBI/AAAAAAAAAoA/VarOJujSue8/s320/S6000191.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Yo no quiero ser</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">gregorio samsa.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Ni la soledad</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">del cuarto</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">ni las manzanas en la</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">espalda.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Solamente un poco </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">de azúcar de lo que</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">queda</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">para tirar.</span><br /><br /></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Fotos: Melina Salman</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7221228405376518124?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-10515014082171591272008-11-03T10:30:00.000-08:002008-11-03T10:46:48.699-08:00<strong><em></em></strong><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SQ9ESCIa0rI/AAAAAAAAAng/x72LP0dYieo/s1600-h/S6001738.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264501566019916466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SQ9ESCIa0rI/AAAAAAAAAng/x72LP0dYieo/s400/S6001738.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p align="center">seguramente cuando </p><p align="center">el cuerpo se quiebre</p><p align="center">y seamos pedacitos</p><p align="center">las sombras quedarán ahí</p><p align="center">sobreviviendo al mundo.</p><p align="center"> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1051501408217159127?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-44101973260752411032008-10-21T10:44:00.000-07:002008-10-29T19:22:52.583-07:00<div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SP40JaepS7I/AAAAAAAAAnY/F6rUAoa7f9o/s1600-h/S6000012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259698751146642354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SP40JaepS7I/AAAAAAAAAnY/F6rUAoa7f9o/s400/S6000012.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">A ellos </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">les sucedía el amor </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">con la exactitud del tiempo,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">sin demoras, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">como relojito nuevo.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span> </div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Yo, esperaba.</span><br /></span></p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong> </p><p align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4410197326075241103?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-18582548472452455942008-10-18T20:07:00.000-07:002008-10-29T19:03:56.738-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SPqlTxJhbJI/AAAAAAAAAnA/pCG-I890w70/s1600-h/S6001197.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258697273937849490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SPqlTxJhbJI/AAAAAAAAAnA/pCG-I890w70/s400/S6001197.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center">Somos puntos. </div><div align="center">Un punto se une a otro punto. </div><div align="center">Forman una línea. </div><div align="center">La línea se une a otra línea y </div><div align="center">luego a otra y </div><div align="center">a otra. </div><div align="center">Forman figuras. </div><div align="center">Tejen los dibujos del cuerpo.</div><div align="center">Revelan el misterio de la vida.</div><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></strong></span> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1858254847245245594?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-29349609366685100432008-10-15T13:35:00.000-07:002008-10-17T09:29:04.986-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SPdr4W4xH6I/AAAAAAAAAm4/yNxrY5OjQdM/s1600-h/S6001188.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257789705938870178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SPdr4W4xH6I/AAAAAAAAAm4/yNxrY5OjQdM/s320/S6001188.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />No te vayas, verde<br />tenés que quedarte.<br />Ya sé que<br />te molesta la<br />esperanza<br />de los hombres.<br />Pero el mundo<br />no está hecho<br />para vivir sin vos.<br />Tenés que quedarte, verde<br />tenés que<br />quedarte acá </div><div align="center">con los hombres</div><div align="center">sin sonrisa.</div><div align="center">Acá, verde</div><div align="center">acá,<br />que el mundo<br />se derrama en<br />un grito.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em><strong>Foto: Melina Salman</strong></em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2934960936668510043?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-84486270348856913762008-10-11T17:54:00.000-07:002008-10-14T10:13:40.888-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256065261413113618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SPFLgebMnxI/AAAAAAAAAmo/hubpds4mmu4/s400/S6000002.JPG" border="0" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">...y volví a ser</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">s</span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">ueño</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">nube</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">papel en blanco.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">El mundo fue</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">otra vez mundo </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">los colores llenaron</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">las cosas</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">y fui</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">vidavidavida</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">yo.</span></div><p align="right"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8448627034885691376?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-26282407862900400732008-10-06T13:58:00.000-07:002008-10-06T19:39:57.351-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOp8vw-Kj_I/AAAAAAAAAmA/BS-g9fxkT_M/s1600-h/S6000009.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254149075322441714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOp8vw-Kj_I/AAAAAAAAAmA/BS-g9fxkT_M/s400/S6000009.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">¿por qué no hay </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">nadie</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">para agarrar este </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">amor que se deshoja</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">y cae como las </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">gotitas de agua que</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">perdieron la vida?</span></span></div><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></span> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><em><strong>Foto: Melina Salman</strong></em></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2628240786290040073?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-47066390238996417082008-10-05T07:39:00.000-07:002008-10-05T07:50:14.806-07:00<div align="center">no alcanza</div><div align="center">con el sueño de las</div><div align="center">paredes blancas</div><div align="center">la foto de</div><div align="center">marc riboud en</div><div align="center">un rinconcito</div><div align="center">los cordeles </div><div align="center">llenos de</div><div align="center">viento,</div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253681795551901954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOjTwgLOuQI/AAAAAAAAAlo/3fNQzISAKJ4/s320/S6000014.JPG" border="0" /><br />hay que tapar</div><div align="center">el costado</div><div align="center">vacío que</div><div align="center">te espera.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4706639023899641708?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-53252501349108834982008-10-03T11:41:00.000-07:002008-10-04T11:47:14.795-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOZoGL6J63I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/gBQhvI7ovKk/s1600-h/S6000010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253000470859475826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOZoGL6J63I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/gBQhvI7ovKk/s320/S6000010.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">¿donde quedaron </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">las lágrimas de los </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">lloradores de sueños</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">las puntitas de las</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">pestañas</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">que prometían </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">una vida mejor?<br /></span></p></span><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="right"></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5325250134910883498?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-58468772813433821222008-09-28T15:57:00.000-07:002008-09-28T16:06:11.255-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOANkffL-vI/AAAAAAAAAkw/VOnmnqB2usc/s1600-h/S6001385.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251212086092757746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOANkffL-vI/AAAAAAAAAkw/VOnmnqB2usc/s400/S6001385.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">no se conformaba con<br />seguir camino arriba<br />tenía que cortar<br />el aire con<br />un grito<br />aparecer en otro<br />mundo<br />reinvindicar la<br />existencia.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5846877281343382122?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-60373123570256665052008-09-27T06:22:00.000-07:002008-09-27T10:08:34.816-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SN5n_W3n7uI/AAAAAAAAAkg/ItmtRIG2DLA/s1600-h/S6000002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250748553728880354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SN5n_W3n7uI/AAAAAAAAAkg/ItmtRIG2DLA/s400/S6000002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div align="justify">Julio no es un tipo común.</div><div align="justify">Julio escribe, hace pis detrás de los árboles, camina como extraterrestre en un mundo que no lo reconoce.</div><div align="justify">Julio canta por la calle "La vie en rose", sin verguenza y bien fuerte para que lo escuchen.</div><div align="justify">Julio brinda un espectáculo con sus dientes postizos. Los mueve en forma circular como si bailaran algún ritmo capaz de alucinar a cualquiera.</div><div align="justify">Julio se parece a una foto de Roberto Arlt.</div><div align="justify">Julio lee las líneas de las manos y anuncia verdades irrefutables que no siempre se cumplen.</div><div align="justify">Julio habla y entre palabra y palabra, hamaca su humanidad entre un pie y otro.</div><div align="justify">Julio pide billetes de cinco que devuelve al mes siguiente.</div><div align="justify">Julio entra a veces sin permiso y siembra el desconcierto.</div><div align="justify">Julio cree, siente y sufre. Y sabe que es paisaje en la ciudad donde la gente no sabe nada del mundo.</div><div align="justify">Julio vive, y es lo más parecido a la libertad.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6037312357025666505?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-78117325881958007422008-09-25T09:38:00.000-07:002008-09-25T10:54:35.207-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">¡¡¡ amor amor amor !!! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">-gritaron-</span></div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249999976702201074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNu_KcIkzPI/AAAAAAAAAkA/Jh9RwjhM8R0/s400/S6001965.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">y salieron al mundo</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">como fuegos de colores</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">como tierra mojada</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">como naranja entera.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Y como</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">lluvia y viento y sol y otoño</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">fueron felices</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">y el mundo fue otro.</span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7811732588195800742?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-63376438439817169012008-09-24T20:25:00.000-07:002008-09-25T10:13:30.440-07:00<div align="right"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNsFDMDtW9I/AAAAAAAAAj4/_A0w4bEc-Ww/s1600-h/S6001972.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249795342964972498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNsFDMDtW9I/AAAAAAAAAj4/_A0w4bEc-Ww/s320/S6001972.JPG" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em><br /></div><div align="right"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6337643843981716901?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-36218702841137294972008-09-24T19:36:00.000-07:002008-09-24T19:58:05.136-07:00<div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249782743592651234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNr5lzvQyeI/AAAAAAAAAjo/B0K957cqXKU/s400/S6000149.JPG" border="0" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">y se quedó sentada</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">creyendo que </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">la vida vendría </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">a buscarla.</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span> </em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-3621870284113729497?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-5583073068272962862008-09-23T11:53:00.000-07:002008-09-23T14:30:32.348-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNk99VU5hgI/AAAAAAAAAjI/1mmJVclxs9U/s1600-h/S6001837.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249294964583138818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNk99VU5hgI/AAAAAAAAAjI/1mmJVclxs9U/s400/S6001837.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Los árboles de mi pueblo quedaron así. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Sin verde, ni alitas, ni nada. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Antes eran árboles comunes que hacían menos miserable la vida de las personas. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Pero ahora parecen pulpos o manos o alguna cosa rara salida de la ciencia ficción. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Yo no sé.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">Árboles, lo que se dice árboles... </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;">quedan dudas.</span></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNk7qs9-yzI/AAAAAAAAAi4/oUFF46TeDdc/s1600-h/S6001841.JPG"></a><div align="right"><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-558307306827296286?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-12895494356424679982008-09-22T10:51:00.000-07:002008-10-05T18:30:22.855-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOlp7m27l1I/AAAAAAAAAl4/AI5rizvijZo/s1600-h/S6001776.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253846913068537682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOlp7m27l1I/AAAAAAAAAl4/AI5rizvijZo/s400/S6001776.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Ella caminaba libre </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">convencida de que </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">la felicidad </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">no eran más que </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">unos pocos colores </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">la ruta sin destino </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">el aire que </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">le pegaba en la cara.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1289549435642467998?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-83384399782957407082008-09-15T13:58:00.000-07:002008-10-04T21:18:05.523-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SM7NFW11nvI/AAAAAAAAAh4/VEBbzMOjwCI/s1600-h/S6001827.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246356107847638770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SM7NFW11nvI/AAAAAAAAAh4/VEBbzMOjwCI/s400/S6001827.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"><strong>ya dijimos que no nos íbamos a quedar parados en dirección al olvido</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8338439978295740708?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-45268940590102228952008-09-11T08:57:00.000-07:002008-09-11T16:30:21.588-07:00me he casado<br />me he casado conmigo<br />me he dado el sí<br />un sí que tardó años en llegar<br />años de sufrimiento indecibles<br />de llorar con la lluvia<br />de encerrarme en la pieza<br />porque yo -el gran amor de mi existencia-<br />no me llamaba<br />no me escribía<br />no me visitaba<br />y a veces<br />cuando juntaba yo el coraje de llamarme<br />para decirme: hola, ¿estoy bien?<br />yo me hacía negar<br /><div align="center">(...)</div><div><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SMlFdlpe3iI/AAAAAAAAAhY/xMkBjieG-xA/s1600-h/S6001826.JPG"></a></p><p align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SMmXtzLz3-I/AAAAAAAAAhs/B4VrXeW8ELE/s1600-h/S6001826.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244890054139305954" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SMmXtzLz3-I/AAAAAAAAAhs/B4VrXeW8ELE/s200/S6001826.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><div><br /></div><div align="right">entonces me dije: hola, ¿soy yo?</div><div align="right">soy yo, me dije, y añadí:</div><div align="right">hace muchísimo que no sabemos nada </div><div align="right">yo de mí ni mí de yo</div><div align="right">¿quiero venir a casa?</div><div align="right">sí dije yo</div><div align="right">y volvimos a encontrarnos</div><div align="right">con paz</div><div align="right">yo me sentía bien junto conmigo</div><div align="right">igual que yo</div><div align="right">que me sentía bien junto conmigo</div><div align="right">y así</div><div align="right">de un día para el otro</div><div align="right">me casé y me casé</div><div align="right">y estoy junto</div><div align="right">y ni la muerte puede separarme.<br /><br /></div><div align="right"><em></em> </div><div align="right"><em>Susana Thénon, <strong>"La morada Imposible"</strong></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div align="right"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4526894059010222895?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-41673987004526088162008-09-09T16:13:00.000-07:002008-10-04T21:24:26.965-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SMcDg-F_zjI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/VScOnRfcue4/s1600-h/S6001812.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244164156055080498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SMcDg-F_zjI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/VScOnRfcue4/s320/S6001812.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4167398700452608816?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-58027862333811041852008-08-29T13:41:00.000-07:002008-10-04T20:04:19.001-07:00<div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLhfybp0lxI/AAAAAAAAAgI/nn7iLphUnSs/s1600-h/S6001842.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240043486466840338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLhfybp0lxI/AAAAAAAAAgI/nn7iLphUnSs/s400/S6001842.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">La soledad nos caía como agua de lluvia. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Gotitas de soledad se metían adentro. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Se multiplicaban, y de una salían dos, tres, cuatro, cien gotitas de soledad. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Cada gotita buscaba su gotita compañera y así estaban, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">queriendo ser gota en otra gota.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Pero nosotros no sabíamos que su soledad era la nuestra.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Entonces nos quedábamos esperando que dos gotitas se juntaran, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">recorrieran el mismo camino</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">y el milagro.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Pero eso no pasaba.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Las gotitas seguían siendo las mismas gotitas</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">y nosotros</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">colgábamos de soledad.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></strong> </div><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5802786233381104185?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-57791546686387754892008-08-27T10:10:00.000-07:002008-08-27T10:18:44.098-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLWK93lNHkI/AAAAAAAAAfo/WhzBqpCERqI/s1600-h/S6001824.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239246537012092482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLWK93lNHkI/AAAAAAAAAfo/WhzBqpCERqI/s400/S6001824.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> ... ¿Qué sos<br /> sino un puño crispado y bala en boca?<br /> ¿Qué sos, Nicaragua<br /> para dolerme tanto?</span><br /></span><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Texto: Gioconda Belli</em></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5779154668638775489?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-82048627051697888732008-08-22T16:11:00.000-07:002008-08-23T09:40:24.298-07:00<div align="center">Ya gasté todos los fuegos que tenía para el amor. </div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237753441992260514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLA9ATMHO6I/AAAAAAAAAeo/qX6cdxWtLK0/s320/S6001763.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="right">Solamente me quedan<br />los fósforos quemados</div><div align="right">el olor de los fósforos quemados </div><div align="right">el humo impregnado de lo que nunca fue</div><div align="right">y las puntitas negras</div><div align="right">negras</div><div align="right">del desencuentro. </div><br /><div align="right"></div><br /><div align="right"></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8204862705169788873?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-63843013335443050312008-08-22T11:34:00.000-07:002008-09-24T20:05:44.775-07:00<div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237412951487467122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK8HVJNwznI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/KMAb4lapayQ/s400/S6001743.JPG" border="0" /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">las sombras tejen telarañas de sueños que hacen posible la vida.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6384301333544305031?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-11020453802069967332008-08-21T09:09:00.000-07:002008-09-16T18:19:51.338-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246788477363224674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNBWUkzZAGI/AAAAAAAAAiA/ooFuo8AMyyM/s320/S6001696.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Él echó el café</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">en la taza.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Echó la leche</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">en la taza de café.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Echó el azúcar</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">en el café con leche.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Con la cuchara revolvió.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Bebió el café con leche.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Y dejó la taza </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">sin hablarme.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Encendió un cigarrillo.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Hizo círculos</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">con el humo.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Puso las cenizas</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">en el cenicero.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Sin hablarme.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Sin mirarme.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Se levantó.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Se puso el sombrero.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Se puso el impermeable</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">porque llovía.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Y se marchó</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">bajo la lluvia.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Sin una palabra.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Sin mirarme.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Y yo me tomé</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">la cabeza con la mano.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Y lloré.</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div></div><div align="right"><em><strong>Jacques Prévert<br /></div></strong></em><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1102045380206996733?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-1397559632076374632008-08-19T15:58:00.000-07:002008-09-26T20:18:18.953-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SN2lqez0w4I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/ILJxVA7peQE/s1600-h/S6001606.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250534889827386242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SN2lqez0w4I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/ILJxVA7peQE/s320/S6001606.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">mirar</span><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">mirar</span><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>mirar</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">mirar </span><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">mirar </span><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>(te)</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span> </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-139755963207637463?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-47468656869296936872008-08-17T15:37:00.000-07:002008-08-21T07:48:51.768-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK2AMIB7ECI/AAAAAAAAAco/v4abP7FjZbg/s1600-h/S6001672.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236982887504089122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK2AMIB7ECI/AAAAAAAAAco/v4abP7FjZbg/s400/S6001672.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SKipM0V_ZRI/AAAAAAAAAaA/zLYre6IakZM/s1600-h/S6001672.JPG"></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Busqué la luz del mediodía </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">un plato el tenedor</span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">izquierda y derecha.</span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Frente. </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">No había nada más que una sombra.</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</div></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4746865686929693687?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-48342183479703013362008-08-11T10:52:00.000-07:002008-08-26T14:34:36.262-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SKB88RbzMhI/AAAAAAAAAV8/pOV386b6Nd0/s1600-h/S6001466.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233320141918515730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SKB88RbzMhI/AAAAAAAAAV8/pOV386b6Nd0/s400/S6001466.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4834218347970301336?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-4501158439293445902008-08-09T15:41:00.000-07:002008-08-15T15:38:37.271-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SJ4doyxiw4I/AAAAAAAAAVk/gtWYsB5SMAA/s1600-h/S6001333.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232652403712639874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SJ4doyxiw4I/AAAAAAAAAVk/gtWYsB5SMAA/s400/S6001333.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-450115843929344590?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-11700841351075491802008-08-07T07:32:00.000-07:002008-10-04T19:56:50.804-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK2EX-7YnKI/AAAAAAAAAdA/XcFsnOP-ZLc/s1600-h/S6001393.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236987489265687714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK2EX-7YnKI/AAAAAAAAAdA/XcFsnOP-ZLc/s400/S6001393.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /><div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"> Con tres heridas yo: </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">la de la vida, </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">la de la muerte, </span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">la del amor.</span><br /></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="right"><em>Miguel Hernández<br /></div></em><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1170084135107549180?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-75981568719542850212008-08-01T15:23:00.000-07:002008-09-11T09:35:49.007-07:00<div align="center">...también las locas, Luciana</div><div align="center">tus locas,</div><div align="center">caminan acá</div><div align="center">por avenida de mayo,</div><div align="center">se esconden detrás de un pañuelo</div><div align="center">arrugado para</div><div align="center">hablarle al mundo</div><div align="center">cargan sus bolsas de nylon repletas</div><div align="center">de miseria y sueños</div><div align="center">se amparan en la noche</div><div align="center">y </div><div align="center">esperan</div><div align="center">esperan</div><div align="center">esperan...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7598156871954285021?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-44755360421058081562008-07-30T10:57:00.000-07:002008-08-15T10:57:12.148-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">..."Porque hay estados del alma tan incandescentes que abordarlos es simplemente renovar su ardor y arder, alimentar su capacidad de fuego y dañarse; sólo es posible entonces apartar la mirada, mirar otra cosa, hacer de cuenta que todavía queda algo en el mundo que las llamas no han consumido, hasta que el tiempo, única fuerza realmente invulnerable, capaz de afectar sin ser afectada, haga su trabajo y lo que era llama o brasa viva sea por fin el eco débil de un calor, una ceniza inofensiva"...</span></div><br /><div align="right"><em><strong></strong></em></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><strong>"El pasado",</strong></em> Alan Pauls</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4475536042105808156?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-51462360064106302132008-06-13T16:13:00.001-07:002008-08-15T10:50:09.457-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SJC2UzDgRXI/AAAAAAAAAVM/RxzhoZK8Nls/s1600-h/S6000106.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228879635795690866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 296px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" height="289" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SJC2UzDgRXI/AAAAAAAAAVM/RxzhoZK8Nls/s320/S6000106.JPG" width="386" border="0" /></a>las locas caminamos <div align="left">por la Avenida Sixto Rodríguez</div><div align="left">nos reconocemos</div><div align="left">no nos asustamos,</div><div align="left">la del pañuelo en la cabeza</div><div align="left">la boca sangre,</div><div align="left">que cuenta un bollo</div><div align="left">de papeles</div><div align="left">de dos pesos,</div><div align="left">la que habla sola y</div><div align="left">arrastra un changuito</div><div align="left">lleno de basura y </div><div align="left">yo (que me doy cuenta).</div><div align="left">Hay algo conmovedor </div><div align="left">en todo esto,</div><div align="left">porque por ahí</div><div align="left">la felicidad es </div><div align="left">caminar sabiéndose </div><div align="left">loca y libre.</div><div align="left">Nosotras nos miramos </div><div align="left">a los ojos,</div><div align="left">no nos mentimos,</div><div align="left">nos saludamos </div><div align="left">con respeto.</div><div></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Texto: Luciana Schubmann</em></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em> </em></span></div><div align="right"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5146236006410630213?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-37903033078847241792008-06-13T16:01:00.001-07:002008-08-27T10:31:11.000-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLWPQEW1BVI/AAAAAAAAAfw/uKu53UtYkHc/s1600-h/S6000256.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239251247725610322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLWPQEW1BVI/AAAAAAAAAfw/uKu53UtYkHc/s400/S6000256.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Foto: Melina Salman</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-3790303307884724179?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-45096305062221357752008-06-09T15:45:00.000-07:002008-09-22T15:22:09.004-07:00<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248974138423934258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNgaKyv4fTI/AAAAAAAAAio/YZHBsyofljI/s400/S6001815.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">... "llorar a lágrima viva</div><div align="center">llorar a chorro"...<br />-dijo oliverio-<br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Y así fue.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center">Te lloré</div><div align="center">en todos los <span style="font-size:180%;">hombres</span><br /></div><div align="center">en todos los <span style="font-size:130%;">cuerpos</span><br /></div><div align="center">en todas las <span style="font-size:85%;">lluvias.</span><br /></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">Lloré mi costado vacío</div><div align="center">lo sueños rotos</div><div align="center">el dolor del</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">viento</span><br /></div><div align="center">sin </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">vos.</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4509630506222135775?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-31445536507341755412008-06-09T13:34:00.001-07:002008-10-05T07:18:47.976-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK91FF9uHZI/AAAAAAAAAeg/5NOS8cx88TU/s1600-h/S6001172.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237533622016023954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK91FF9uHZI/AAAAAAAAAeg/5NOS8cx88TU/s400/S6001172.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">la tarde en</div><div align="center">blanco y negro le </div><div align="center">recordaba la</div><div align="center">soledad de</div><div align="center">todas</div><div align="center">las</div><div align="center">cosas.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></strong></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SE2UPyzJeaI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/wsQidSFyYKI/s1600-h/S6001172.JPG"></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-3144553650734175541?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-74780734349394740292008-06-09T11:49:00.000-07:002008-06-13T16:22:56.922-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SE18FH8ti7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/aFTOAwYyYag/s1600-h/S6001183.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209956771412413362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="311" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SE18FH8ti7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/aFTOAwYyYag/s400/S6001183.JPG" width="442" border="0" /></a> Foto: Melina Salman </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7478073434939474029?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-51296394930116833302008-05-23T15:53:00.000-07:002008-09-22T14:48:00.519-07:00<div align="right"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNgSS4ILZWI/AAAAAAAAAiY/2FxRH9K8P1k/s1600-h/S6000148.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248965481213945186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNgSS4ILZWI/AAAAAAAAAiY/2FxRH9K8P1k/s320/S6000148.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Te sigo esperando en</span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">la </span><span style="font-size:180%;">esquina</span><br /></div><div align="center">que no conozco</div><div align="center">en la <span style="font-size:180%;">lluvia</span> que</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">no fue</span> </div><div align="center">en el <span style="font-size:180%;">beso</span> que</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">no</span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">me</span> </div><div align="center">diste.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Foto: Melina Salman</em></span><br /><div align="center"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5129639493011683330?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-63317281828574099972007-12-12T15:06:00.000-08:002008-08-15T10:29:25.772-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SExH1KX8CbI/AAAAAAAAAQE/RLgo8K4wHOU/s1600-h/S6000078.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209617847604218290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SExH1KX8CbI/AAAAAAAAAQE/RLgo8K4wHOU/s400/S6000078.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Foto: Melina Salman </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6331728182857409997?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-64600027641289457482007-10-26T12:28:00.000-07:002008-08-15T10:24:03.546-07:00<div align="right"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SE2WsG1ZvsI/AAAAAAAAARA/gxJPcfJjgv0/s1600-h/S6000851.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209986028430540482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SE2WsG1ZvsI/AAAAAAAAARA/gxJPcfJjgv0/s400/S6000851.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">...esperamos<br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">y <span style="font-size:130%;">permanecemos inertes</span></span><br /></div><div align="center">para ser</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">contaminados</span> </span><br /></div></span><div align="center">con las miserias del<br /><span style="font-size:180%;">mundo.</span></div><div align="right"> </div></div><div align="right"></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /><div align="right"></div><div align="right"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6460002764128945748?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-20957332085608696142007-10-15T12:35:00.000-07:002008-08-15T10:22:32.855-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SKSkbeB-pFI/AAAAAAAAAXY/QzHh6jWLNC8/s1600-h/S6000598.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234489458736145490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SKSkbeB-pFI/AAAAAAAAAXY/QzHh6jWLNC8/s400/S6000598.JPG" border="0" /></a> Y pensar que me<br /><span style="font-size:180%;">cerraste</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">ese lugarcito justo</span><br /><br />cuando empezaba la<br />función.<br />Y me quedé <span style="font-size:180%;">sin</span><br /><br />papel y<br />sin mi película francesa<br /><span style="font-size:180%;">al lado tuyo</span>.<br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;">Foto: Melina Salman<br /></span></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/RxTm3JUfsSI/AAAAAAAAALk/wtw2Pt4RVbM/s1600-h/S6000804.JPG"></a><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-2095733208560869614?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-43721542391184914262007-10-15T11:29:00.000-07:002008-08-24T07:48:45.161-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLF0lwdDb2I/AAAAAAAAAfA/sW2T4e764Zw/s1600-h/S6000236.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238096033619341154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLF0lwdDb2I/AAAAAAAAAfA/sW2T4e764Zw/s400/S6000236.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">Puente será tu cuerpo</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">tendido entre mi tiempo...</span><br /></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Texto: Malena Muyala</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Fotos: Melina Salman</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-4372154239118491426?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-64549487032159291732007-10-09T11:59:00.000-07:002008-08-25T12:20:52.243-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9mVJuhrUI/AAAAAAAAAdo/wGCBjOMIDso/s1600-h/S6001762.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237517405229526338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9mVJuhrUI/AAAAAAAAAdo/wGCBjOMIDso/s400/S6001762.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Habrá que volver</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">juntar los pedacitos</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">del pasado</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">dejar que la lluvia </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">limpie las manchas que</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">quedaron</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">y dar de nuevo.<br /></span></div><p align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6454948703215929173?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-7284586756360573392007-10-08T13:13:00.000-07:002009-03-10T16:25:21.549-07:00<div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span> </div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/RwqSKJ8MrgI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Ds2qmWWtuyw/s1600-h/S6001199.JPG"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLYR3pPZs6I/AAAAAAAAAf4/8Nosp7xMdqc/s1600-h/S6000111.JPG"></a><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNsBjFRyP-I/AAAAAAAAAjw/_gzX_bHJ640/s1600-h/S6000113.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249791492854267874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SNsBjFRyP-I/AAAAAAAAAjw/_gzX_bHJ640/s320/S6000113.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tierra,<br />tierra,<br />vuelvo a tener infancia<br />tierra,<br />hummus<br />vuelvo a habitarme.</span><br /></span><br /></span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p align="right"><em></em></p><p align="left"><em>Luciana Schubmann</em><br /><a href="http://www.mozounmartini.blogspot.com/">http://www.mozounmartini.blogspot.com/</a> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-728458675636057339?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-66261509230842548592007-10-08T12:14:00.000-07:002008-08-22T19:08:27.479-07:00<div align="center">Toma<br />el sendero<br />que separa mis senos</div><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9uaB5M3vI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/MhzpR4rjAi4/s1600-h/S6000815.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237526285119184626" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9uaB5M3vI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/MhzpR4rjAi4/s320/S6000815.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center">resbala<br /></div><div align="center">tu antojo<br />por el<br />contorno<br />de<br />mis<br />caderas<br />ágil<br />recio<br />hasta que el gusto<br />te mire con dolor<br />y te sonría el dolor<br />lamiéndose de gusto </div><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9sbjtQDsI/AAAAAAAAAeI/wp9HLHHDFzo/s1600-h/b+y+n.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237524112352480962" style="CURSOR: hand" height="223" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9sbjtQDsI/AAAAAAAAAeI/wp9HLHHDFzo/s320/b+y+n.JPG" width="271" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center">s</p><p align="center">e<br />s<br />g<br />a<br />tu rumbo<br />hacia el<br />centro<br />sigue<br />pendiente<br />abajo<br />y cuando el jugo del instinto<br />anuncie mi locura <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/RwqI3p8MrcI/AAAAAAAAAIM/4ini1fQXbKs/s1600-h/S6000838.JPG"></a><br />—Cazador—<br />escamotea y penetra al fondo<br />muy al fondo de la cueva<br />donde mi género<br />levanta la especie<br />y sostiene la esperanza.</p><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9rLFhWWQI/AAAAAAAAAd4/n62TcAq1OIU/s1600-h/S6000838.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237522729859963138" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9rLFhWWQI/AAAAAAAAAd4/n62TcAq1OIU/s320/S6000838.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="right">Dina Posada, <em>Sugerencia</em></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;">Fotos: Melina Salman</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-6626150923084254859?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-1284155258715210152007-10-07T07:27:00.000-07:002008-08-22T19:15:59.580-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9yvGpXtOI/AAAAAAAAAeY/EeVx6vYPNFs/s1600-h/S6000809.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237531045218727138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9yvGpXtOI/AAAAAAAAAeY/EeVx6vYPNFs/s400/S6000809.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Foto: Melina Salman</span> </span><br /><div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">(...)</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong>Tienes, campo, los huesos que mereces:</strong></span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">grandes vértebras simples e inocentes,</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">tibias rudimentarias,</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">informes maxilares que atestiguan</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">tu vida milenaria;</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">y sin embargo, campo, no se advierte</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">ni una arruga en tu frente. </span><br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">(...)</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">Gracias, campo, por ser tan despoblado</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">y limpito de muertos,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">que admites arriesgar cualquier postura</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">sin pedirle permiso a los espectros.</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">Muchas gracias por crearnos una muerte</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">de tu mismo tamaño y tan perfecta</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">que no deja ni el rastro de una huella.</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;">Y mil gracias por darnos la certeza</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">de poder galopar toda una vida</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">sin hallar otra muerte que la nuestra.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">(...)</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Tú que estás en los cielos, campo nuestro.</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">Ante ti se arrodilla mi silencio.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><em>Oliverio Girondo</em></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-128415525871521015?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-52369491362618760602007-10-07T06:14:00.000-07:002008-08-25T18:41:46.995-07:00<div align="right"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLNe6yA2bhI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/_j_HxvW2aqE/s1600-h/S6001213.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238635155512782354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SLNe6yA2bhI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/_j_HxvW2aqE/s320/S6001213.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="right"></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/RwjdZp8MrSI/AAAAAAAAAGw/lxPocx5iCHE/s1600-h/S6000761.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">Siempre </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">llega mi mano</span><br />más tarde que otra mano que se mezcla a la mía</div><span style="font-family:courier new;">y forman una mano...</span><br /><br /><div align="left"><em></em> </div><div align="left"><em>O. Girondo</em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-5236949136261876060?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-84657939192178547232007-10-07T06:02:00.000-07:002008-10-04T20:53:40.714-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9oKdnZFSI/AAAAAAAAAdw/kpcqhe-PtEk/s1600-h/S6001171.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237519420613006626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SK9oKdnZFSI/AAAAAAAAAdw/kpcqhe-PtEk/s400/S6001171.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">no quiero esta<br />vida de<br />domingo eterno<br />ni la<br />profecía<br />que anuncia la soledad de<br />los hombres.<br /></span><br /></span><div align="right"><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8465793919217854723?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-75720118575007415062007-10-07T05:46:00.000-07:002008-10-04T19:43:35.254-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOfO52zQlYI/AAAAAAAAAlY/vJSTQ3yeXRc/s1600-h/S6001193.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253394983709349250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOfO52zQlYI/AAAAAAAAAlY/vJSTQ3yeXRc/s400/S6001193.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;">como barco de </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;">papel </span>en el </div><div align="center">agua</div><br /><div align="center">mi mano te</div><div align="center">busca</div><div align="center">en el camino que </div><div align="center">dejaste</div><div align="center">antes de </div><div align="center">llegar.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/RwjYLZ8MrOI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/7a4dga33tV4/s1600-h/S6001193.JPG"></a><br /><div align="right"><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></strong><br /></div><div align="right"></div><br /><br /><div align="right"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-7572011857500741506?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-14167093014152982322007-10-02T16:29:00.000-07:002008-10-06T14:36:15.135-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOqCJ77PLWI/AAAAAAAAAmI/UNaNteIKC2Q/s1600-h/S6000267.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254155022497688930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SOqCJ77PLWI/AAAAAAAAAmI/UNaNteIKC2Q/s400/S6000267.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Sufres la mentira que sientes porque algo de verdad tiene. Ama la verdad que te libera de otras verdades.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">El recuerdo busca en el tiempo aquello que ha perdido.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><em>Escapo del recuerdo que me olvida.</em></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center">La ilusión es una fortaleza indestructible que nos protege ante los ataques de la realidad.</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;">La salvación del ego conspira contra toda verdad.</span><br /></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">El optimismo es una lucha entre la razón y la esperanza.</span></em></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">La objetividad es una lucha de intereses.</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Textos: Pablo Salman</span></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Foto: Melina Salman </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-1416709301415298232?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-85070294533658544122007-10-01T15:23:00.000-07:002008-10-04T12:00:09.063-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SEx_UmlZcPI/AAAAAAAAAQc/__YfwwFzDgY/s1600-h/S6000764.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209678860892336370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/SEx_UmlZcPI/AAAAAAAAAQc/__YfwwFzDgY/s400/S6000764.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Ella sabía que </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">en las manos </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">escondía el dolor de </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">todas las mujeres que</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">no fue. </span></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span><br /></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8507029453365854412?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072190184472869967.post-87932931915200846712007-09-30T09:00:00.000-07:002009-05-02T16:57:44.738-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sfzd4kdjEYI/AAAAAAAAA7U/KreMBqFbNZ8/s1600-h/S6000050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331380022829846914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mvdNyEOUIjs/Sfzd4kdjEYI/AAAAAAAAA7U/KreMBqFbNZ8/s400/S6000050.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000000;">...el único sentido oculto de las cosas<br />es no tener ningún sentido oculto.<br />Es más extraño que todas las extrañezas<br />y que los sueños de todos los poetas<br />y los pensamientos de todos los filósofos<br />que las cosas sean realmente lo que parecen ser<br />y no haya nada que comprender.<br /><br />Sí, he aquí lo que mis sentidos aprendieron solos:<br />Las cosas no tienen significación: tienen existencia.<br />Las cosas son el único sentido oculto de las cosas. </span></div><br /><br /><p align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em></em></span></p><br /><br /><p align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em></em></span></p><br /><br /><p align="right"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><em>Fernando Pessoa</em></span></p><br /><p align="right"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Foto: Melina Salman</span></em></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7072190184472869967-8793293191520084671?l=elarteporelarte.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Melinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13105795681450457548noreply@blogger.com0