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THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 47.

I am now going real slow through my most sincere thoughts on break-ups, downpours, bankrupts and traffic-jams. I happen to fancy them so much. They cry for creativity!

This photo: Beautiful traffic jam on 5th and 32nd reaching La Macarena in Bogota.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 46.

The actual end of the day: decaying lights of some beautiful sunset. I’m so attracted to the fact that best things -not necessarily most healthy ones- run from daylight and take place where color does not exist anymore.

This photo: Caballero painting under sunset light through the window.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 45.

The actual end of the day: decaying lights of some beautiful sunset. What have I and have I not done? How far have I come?… and last -and enything but least- How young is the night tonight?

This photo: Dog sculpture and books at 5:30pm. Bogotá.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 44.

I like no lights, I like no colors. I’d rather swim the dark. It’s best not to know where I actually am. Seriously.

This photo: Piece of art @ galería Sextante, Bogotá.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 43.

So, you are telling me I am the only one to draw my horizons and take my chances. Will you let me see you take your chances first, instead?

This photo: Broken glass on the top edge of a wall to keep bulglars at bay. Downtown Bogotá.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 42.

The imposibility to build one’s personality leads to some quite appealing series of first time events, day after day. I just don’t know what I feel like wearing today. I don’t want to know.

This photo: Carrera 3 No.11-82/11-78/11-76/11-72… Candelaria. Clearly Candelaria.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 41.

I think it’s not her I fell in love with. I think it’s the me I met when we were together. That I liked, that I miss. Then what happened today as she came towards me and no bell rang inside for a good memorie? Did I see her without me and didn’t fancy it?

This photo: Wallpaint in Cadelaria. Cra 3 Calle 12, Bogotá.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 40.

And the third day welcomes us all wet and dark, reminding us it’s time to get back. Leting us know it’s not home we are right now in. No matter how much we liked it, it’s over. Cute and rough. The bleeding night makes it shine under my feet and companies me on my goodbye sleep. Today, I went too far in poem and just let myself to the flow, under a blind invitation for two.

Y el tercer día nos saluda con la sombra, nos recuerda que no estamos en casa, que es hora de regresar. No importa cuánto nos ha gustado, se acaba. Dulce y áspero. Ahora camino sobre el brillo de la noche que sangra y me acompaña en mi sueño de despedida. Hoy me pasé de poético, no reflexioné. me dejé llevar, invitado. Una doble ceguera.

This photo: Villa de Leyva at night. Central plaza.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 40.

Why is it I like it the less likely the better? Force the means, play with fire. Get bthe burn and the relief… Live.

Por qué será que me gusta más cuando no está claro? Inventarse la manera, jugar con fuego. Quemarse y recuperarse… Vivir

This photo: Villa de Leyva.

THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S DIARY. Day 39.

I like you better, way better, under your early morning elegance. Only you and I will know we liked it better, way better, alone and quiet.

Me gustas más, mucho más, vestida de tu elegancia matutina. Solo tu y yo sabemos que nos gustó más, mucho más, solos y en silencio.

This photo: Villa de Leyva under it’s early morning elegance, 3 hours from Bogota.