Joan Espino Photo / Laura Marquez: Two virtual desktops 
barbed joan / Laura Marquez / kaleidoscopiodeletras
Today is December 31 2009 , ie few remaining hours to change the calendar and plunge into an adventure of 12 months.
Usually in this space a little story that has been year for me, perhaps I will then but in truth I decided instead to devote this last post of the year to a person whom I met in a special way in recent months.
Her name is Laura Marquez , although below is my description of it, I can say that is a writer with soul immense and a heart full of lyrics lives in ¨ ¨ city that never sleeps and has D40 camera as an extension of your eyes.
so read below is an exchange of virtual experiences and the results of an experiment that was never published in the Listin Diario , section ¨ North · and take this opportunity to thank Inmaculada Aracena and Medina Grisbel for your support as always.
by Laura Marquez
When I was little laughter from my neighbors always suggested to me to dress up as Snow White convert my friends in the 7 dwarfs and I was never able to answer that I always wanted to disguise the bad of the story. One day, it is not too much, my pale skin was filled with demons without costume and I found apples corrosive poison spit, then I discovered the 7 giants who would not let me sleep so you do not forget that sometimes, just sometimes, a few kisses are sincere.
One of these giants had brown eyes and long hair, open hands and shoulders are full of tears left to shed in sinister dawn. Tiptoed between gestures and stealthy cyber kissed me on the forehead, to clear the corner of his mouth, registered nightmares indelible in my memory. It became rare giant words, who always smiles and papering of ART to those who participate in its spell. It is him who come to talk to you, Joan, who let me steal the parentheses.
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LAURA MARQUEZ, A HEART OF ARTS
by Joan Espino
Someone whispered my twitter a poet was among us, then I just stopped on the bridge that divides the city, watched carefully the whole picture almost consumed by the change of season.
clock sometimes confused me, did not know whether the time had died or if my thoughts floated a moment as he looked recite his verses in ¨ ¨ Strawberry Fields of Central Park , his words had so much rhythm, so flight.
I his heart captive letters, almost galactic explosion of feelings Virtual saved on the timeline of those who follow him, I wonder How much light can fill these spaces when the sun not yet awake? , her name is Laura, but I am unsure of who or where material is made divine.
Her smile, her inner-flavored melody and words Sabina always fresh, mixed in an invitation to cry that calls to be discovered, in exchange I'll be here sitting next to her voice perceiving colors not imagine existed.
pubic the section on Listin NORTH 11/12/2009 Journal
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