Poetry - Restrepo Ortega | Documentaryist

Salía con pocas mujeres y no tocaba a ninguna. No le gustaban sus pechos. No le gustaba su olor por más que trataran de esconderlo bajo el almizcle de osos y bayas. Eran víctimas de la luna y resultaba fácil engañarlas. Tetas como timbres

Salía con pocas mujeres y no tocaba a ninguna. No le gustaban sus pechos. No le gustaba su olor por más que trataran de esconderlo bajo el almizcle de osos y bayas. Eran víctimas de la luna y resultaba fácil engañarlas. Tetas como timbres

Time, Time, Time. What is time?

It is the word we do not understand when we repeat it many times.

Time is to know that with every day everything changes and grows. > Time is the imagination, the perception, the mood.

Time is to feel the rain on the skin, the warm sun.

Time is life, We, eternally follow.

Time teaches us that nothing is permanent.

Time is memory, smells, textures. Shows that we are simple creatures.

Time is every thought, conscious or unconscious.

Time is the spirit, free and innocent. Every decision we make,

Quiet moments before choosing a path.

Time is to accept the turns of fate.

Time is the instant in That everything changes or nothing happens.

Time shows us that happiness is not scarce.

Time is the sun, moon, clouds in the distance,

Asking the question, Move or move?

Time helps us to know what we want.

Time is slippery, it is temporary, it is eternal.

Fades, remains, ambiguous and sincere.

Time is happiness, sadness, friendship, loneliness.

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Time is love and hate, affection and Contempt.

Time is silence.

Time is a breath, a sigh, a tear, a kiss. Scar, freckles in the nose.

Time is to wake up, yawn, stretch.

Time is the pleasure of lying in a hammock,

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Time is to enjoy as a child of an ice cream.

Time is measured, controlled, hated and loved. Time is what happens while the water for the tea boils.

Time is to know that I do not know tomorrow where I will be.

Time is the shock wave, the tide that up and down,

Time is the word, written, heard, read

thought, murmured, longed, dear.

Time is music,

Time is what we do, at any time or at any time.

Time is swimming in an icy lagoon

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Time is what we were and what we want to be.

Time is a wound that stops hurting.

Time is, above all, Joy, a dream or a nightmare.

Time is to decide to live a complicated or simple life.

But Time is ours, always, the deepest desire. P> Because Time allows me to be who I want.