Inhale, in hell, there's heaven

Me pregunto qué se debe de sentir cuando la gente escucha una canción tuya y se cree que sabe quién eres. Se cree que sabe por lo que estás pasando. En 4 minutos 27 segundos te retrataste tan bien que, ahí estás, esa es tu vida hasta la fecha, y ellos lo ven porque te vieron y se vieron a sí mismos. Todo va sobre ellos, nada sobre ti, nunca sobre ti, siempre sobre ellos. Entonces me pregunto, aclarando eso último, superado el halago rebotado, ahora que sabes de qué van, me pregunto, ¿qué se siente? ¿Qué se siente cuando lo único que ven de ti es a sí mismos?

I wonder how does it feel when people listen to a song of yours and they think they know who you are. They think they know what you're going through. In 4 minutes 27 seconds you portrayed yourself so well that there you are, that's your life to date, and they see it because they saw you and saw themselves. Everything is about them, nothing about you, never about you, always about them. Then I wonder, having set that clear, being over the ricocheted compliment, now that you know what they're about, I wonder, how does it feel? How does it feel when the only one thing they see about you is themselves?


All pictures taken on 10th March 2017 around the U-Bahn (U1), Hamburg, Germany. Special thanks to Guillermous for teaching me all I know about music.

Auf Kosten der Gesundheit Teil Vier

Found the dead body of a toilet with neither a seat nor a lid (not so sure about the brand, though, kind of difficult to determine with certainty due to the fact that nobody gives a shit about toilet brands, turd intended) in Uhlandstraße U-Bahn station, Hamburger home of the small performance, while talking to my mother on the phone at around 22:45, the second best hour of the day just surpassed by the hour you accidentally wake up at to realize you still got two hours left to sleep. The utilitarian-item-made-into-urban-sculpture was at the entrance of the tunnel that leads to the platforms (sensibly not surpassing the crossing bird-excrement line) because some currently-retired-former-punk-anarchist couldn't even bother to leave it in a junkyard, probably due to various reasons, usually hip replacement surgery. I'm sad that nobody happened to be passing by at that time and looked like the kind of fellow man who would agree to sit in it while I took the ultimately decadent portrait of contemporary humanity. But the cold, coldhearted, Hank Williams style abandonment of this sanitary piece of furniture looked like the most creative, fearless thing I saw that day. One can never be thankful enough for the useless and the art.

All pictures taken on the 11th May 2016 in Uhlandstraße U-Bahn station in Hamburg, Germany.

Historia de un amor

Si pudiera ser algo que yo escogiera con libertad, me dedicaría a saberlo todo de las personas. No de todas, claramente, ¡pero de algunas...! De algunas quisiera saber hasta la distancia entre barbilla y pecho, quisiera saber la marca de canela que compran, quisiera estirarlos de brazos y piernas, clavarles alfileres de colores y abrirlos en canal como a una sardina de laboratorio en secundaria, deconstruirlos y volverlos a montar fuera de ellos mismos. Quisiera que la consciencia de mí se comprimiera hasta lo imprescindible para mantenerme respirando, y así dejar más sitio para seguir almacenándolos. Han existido y existen tantos seres humanos formidables, y yo sólo quisiera conocerlos hasta la última mota de caspa. No se tiene certeza de que nada más allá de los hombres exista; todas las cosas son producto de nosotros, todas proceden de algún ser. El arte, el amor, Dios o su substituto, la ciencia... Sólo son maneras de liberar a la persona de la carga que es su propia omnipresencia, un acto humilde de delegación imaginaria de poder. La objetividad es, por tanto, dobledimensionalmente falsa en calidad de concepto que no existe y como falso concepto inexistente. Todo aquello que no es humano es un tentáculo de la humanidad que se hunde muy adentro bajo tierra y halla una salida lo suficientemente lejana, que confunde y simula una procedencia con raíces propias. Como las sombras de las ideas en la cueva, que no eran la auténtica verdad sino un facsímil, la objetividad, y por ende todas las construcciones humanas que comprenden la vida entera a su alrededor, es únicamente reflejo de su causa, el intento del hombre de desprender partes de sí mismo y rellenar el vacío terrenal que le provoca saberse fin y principio de todo, un acto mezcla de modestia, miedo y evasión de responsabilidades. Por eso sólo me interesa saberlo todo de alguien, no necesito cuerpo ni voz, nada más que vidas que morir y volver a nacer para dedicarlas a saberlo todo de alguna persona, que es lo mismo que saberlo todo.

Todas las fotografías tomadas el 23 de abril de 2016 en las proximidades de las estación de U-Bahn Uhlandstraße, Hamburgo, Alemania.

Auf Kosten der Gesundheit

“I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” 

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee

Found the dead body of a pigeon (or that, at least, is what it looked like, kind of difficult to determine with certainty due to a lack of head) on my way back from Flohschanze flea market last Saturday at around 1 pm, the second most useless hour of the day just surpassed by 11 am. The innocent creature of our Lord had been decapitated by something or someone who surely had nothing to do with our Lord, probably due to various reasons, usually whiskey. The poor thing's guts were all scattered on the ground, with subtle touches of blood and dog's urine here and there. People passing by glanced at it without amazement, and none of them took their hats off to say the Lord's Prayer to it. I can't imagine what this flying being existence was like, the struggles it went through, the lights and shadows of its lifetime, how many bread crumbs offered by mammal strangers it declined. But its trivial, worthless death looked like the most passionate, graceful thing I saw that day. One can never be thankful enough for the truth and the beauty.

All pictures taken on 23rd April 2016 in the surroundings of Uhlandstraße U-Bahn station in Hamburg, Germany.