Changes by Martin Cid

Changes by Martin Cid


Trip by Martin Cid

Trip by Martin Cid

For the Bible tell Me So

Everything changes, as certain as the smiling moon, as hard as the accurate words of the lost gods of time. There are not flowers in the garden yet, there are not words for the wise man, there is not future for this, again and again, waste land of silent screams. Europe, my dear Europe, my dear Spain and its fate, our tragic fate of don Quixote’s ashes… time, again and again and, once more, the smiling disappointment of the past shattering the wise old promises. Once again, the empty future.

Looking for the character

I have lost him and I have forgotten his name. Years ago, he was mine, my fake creation and true fate, my only dream and the singular nightmare of my silent evening:

The unnamed character went out last Friday evening. Where has he gone? Over the waste land, beyond the sea of fools, even far away of my dreams, he is lost. No more heartbeats of his waste aim, no more feelings for his tired heart, no more lies for his tired paragraphs, no more breaths, no more kills and no more kisses.

At last, no more words.

Ship by Martin Cid

Ship by Martin Cid

Five things I will never lose

First: the ability to be as stupid as it may be a man. Second: a knack for lying, for faking, for writing, for eating and for spiting. Third: the strange human wisdom of never being wrong, especially when I am wrong. Fourth: the prudence to boast always at the right time. Fifth (just to finish, my faults are many but I have one virtue that I have never confessed): the proud to be, in every moment or occasion, as sincere as deceptive, as true as fake, as worst as better and… as human as possible.


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