silvana-lazaro - Tumblr blog

[silvana-lazaro]

EXT. HURON RIVER. NIGHT

If you saw a star

would you recognize it? blinded by light

how can we see any further than our own hands. Nikesh and I

found some rocks to sit

in the darkness 

we drank our beers

the river where the children play in summer

was by now tired of the naiveness of their laughters

was exhausted of children agitating it’s precious water

the river liked us better, grumpy-late twenties year old adults

finally appreciating the midwest, finally giving some credit 

to the landscapes that have shaped our stories

the sound of the train

reminded us we wanted to keep this moment

it’s lights found us and then

it disappeared in the night

our lives felt small but with the potencial

to be characters in a Lynch movie

a guy from Kathmandu who fell in love with the Great lakes

a girl from Mexico City who tries to film the snow before it melts 

EXT. HURON RIVER. NIGHT

In a wide shot, the forest seems empty, the river is only visible by the moon reflection that breaks in its calmed flow.  SLOW ZOOM IN, some figures between the rocks move, as we get closer we recognize there are TWO PEOPLE  talking. The intrepid sound of a train breaks the tempo adagio, the two people stand up fast and try to pull out their phones to film the train, but the train goes too fast. The train lights, like a flash, mark their silhouettes in the ground for an instant. Then, as the train vanishes in the night, the two people disappear. SLOW ZOOM OUT, back to the original wide shot, the forest is empty but we listen to the echoes of the two strangers previous conversations.                                                        GUY                                  I decided to stay one more year.                                                        GIRL

                                    I’ll leave to California on April.

                                                                                                     FADE OUT

[silvana-lazaro]

SOPA DE LETRAS

Ver nacer a los hijos de mis amigos en un story, ver que cocinó hoy mi mamá en fb, reaccionar a las stories, jajaja, 100, fuego, triste, sorprendido, corazón. El escalofrío de saber que alguien más murió: un extraño, el vecino de la abuela de una amiga, el papá de un amigo, el compañero de trabajo de mi tío y sentir tanta distancia que al mismo tiempo parece que nunca pasó. No poder dar un abrazo. Leer las noticias y sentir rabia por este pinche mundo tan horrible, sentir impotencia, cómo salvarnos, qué más tiene que pasar para que nos demos cuenta  que la forma en la que vivimos nos está destruyendo. Luego veo una foto de alguno de sus gatos, que bonito ser gatito. Los rayos del Sol que no salían en marzo, ya están aquí. Estaba harta del frío pero ahora extraño la nieve. Nunca pasó, pero extraño el día que iba a estrenar mi película por fin, después de tres años. Extraño los nervios que tenía unos días antes de que cancelaran todo por el COVID. Extraño las fiestas donde no conoces a nadie y te da igual bailar raro. Extraño a mi mejor amiga y sus lentes que  pintan nuestras aventuras de rosa. Extraño la risa que estalla de los pulmones de mi hermana. Extraño el apapacho de mi mamá. Extraño ir al cine con mi papá, aunque nunca le guste ninguna película. Ser inútil es parte de ser humano, no servimos para nada, todo no lo hemos inventado. Imaginar las películas que no he podido filmar, el vértigo en el horizonte, tal vez nunca logre filmarlas. Intentar  escribirlas pero no tener palabras, por que esto nunca había pasado, por que es difícil imaginar el futuro y seguir creyendo que el cine importa. Sentir a la historia pasando, pero al mismo tiempo no pasa nada y a la vez, diario hay más casos, más gente muerta. Inercia. Respirar el mismo aire que inhalo. Si seguimos así, nos vamos a quedar solos, todos. Vamos a ser pedacitos, pixeles en alguna pantalla. De repente, todo es demasiado, no soy nada y todo está mal. Después veo lo que si está mal, los que perdieron a uno de los suyos y ni siquiera pueden tener un funeral o quienes están encerradas en casa con sus abusadores o cualquier evento que merece describirse con la palabra tragedia. Aún más torpemente, intento disfrutar la vida, "ah qué rico es el helado, qué buen vino, qué chistoso meme, qué increíble atardecer, excelente película, rolón". Todo pierde sentido. Estar con un ser amado, bendecir cualquier casualidad que nos trajo a la misma cuarentena, pensaba que ya sabía que era el amor, no sé nada, pero quiero estar aquí en verbo presente, tengo que aprender a disculparme a mí misma, no soy un cuerpo, existo de tantas maneras que nadie nunca ha visto y creo que me amas lo suficiente para conocerlas todas. Gracias y gracias, no se puede decirle nada más al amor. Días más y días menos, me preguntó cómo será mi recuerdo sobre todo esto. Qué más tendré que decirle al mundo o a mí misma. Malditos humanos, los extraño. Por favor cuídense, amigos burgueses, tengan tantita verguenza y hagan cuarentena. 

C uarto

U niverso

A ullido

R eversa

E xistir

N egarlo

T odo

E xhalar

N ube

A jena

Una pesadilla. Despertar a medio día o a las 5 am sin poder volver a dormir. Besos,cuchareo. Beber mi té. Instangram. Nuevas noticias sobre el COVID. Desayunar. Salir a correr. instangram. Leer. Llorar. "Trabajar". Pequeña crisis o gran crisis.  Intentar trabajar. Eliminar fb de mi celular.  Yoga. Dormir. Intentar dormir. Netflix. Netflix.Google. Dormir. Beso de buenas noches. Cuchareo. Pesadilla.

Todas las palabras se disuelven en esta sopa de letras de la cuarentena y me la como a cucharadas, todos los días. Siempre con limón y sal, por supuesto. A veces está más rica que otras, a veces está fría, de menos la como acompañada. A veces quiero escupirla y mandarla a la chingada, pero no es una opción. A veces está deliciosa, pero por más sabrosa que esté, ninguna sopa de letras puede ser tan buena.

[silvana-lazaro]

Let’s go to  Seychelles

Will days go by

or will they stay

in your bed or somewhere

maybe hanging around in my kitchen, all these days

here and there

a winter ago

walking in a city no one walks

I crossed the same street 

over and over

looking for her

over and over

in a city she’s never been

I thought if I only walked enough

I would either run into her

or forget her under the LA Sun

this winter

this winter

I had knee surgery

and my babe used to bandage my leg

everyday

and I finally felt found

maybe a winter ago, you were also walking around

anxious at every street light

waiting for the green light

like Lorde’s  music video

but not filmed on 35mm

and without the pressure to look cool in camera

these days

like Nico’s song or actually Jackson Brown’s 

but with her voice

I feel like walking

and with my eyes shut 

I step in all this cities I’ve never been, but I know in the map

cause we played and play this quiz 

let’s go to Seychelles

or Monte Negro

let’s try Eritrea or Djibouti

I’ll do it right now with crutches

I’ve been getting quite good at it

crutches, left foot, right foot, crutches

I could

I would

the impossible view

gets closer and closer

while we make love

closer and closer

while I smell your neck

closer and closer

in your eyes

in your pancita

closer and closer

in a song

closer and closer

the plane lands .

[silvana-lazaro]

Nuestras piedras favoritas

 Entonces

nos sentamos sobre las piedras de todos los colores

a observar el mar 

y el misterio

qué es el horizonte que apenas alcanzan a ver nuestros ojos entre cerrados

 (donde se quiebran los rayos del Sol, también se quiebran los momentos)

ahí donde se funde el mar y el cielo

se forma la pregunta

y poco a poco se disuelve en la noche

sigue gravitando en la forma del universo

ya sin nosotras para verlo, la pregunta sigue meciéndose  

 sigue creciendo

mientras tanto,

 tú y yo no encontrábamos nada que comer 

terminamos en el drive through de un Carl’s Junior

yo le puse mucha ketchup a mi hamburguesa

le puse tanta que probablemente ya sólo sabía a los químicos

de lo que sea que tenga una botella de Heinz

afuera, las olas seguían quebrándose contra aquellas piedras

una de ellas tenía forma de tu nariz, otra de tu oreja

habíamos reído 

recogimos nuestras favoritas

las dejamos reposando en la mesita 

tu dormías 

yo y aquellas piedras queríamos volver al mar

a cumplir con nuestro tonto destino de desvelarnos

contemplando a la pregunta confabularse en medio del mar

sin razón alguna, queríamos perderle respeto al tiempo

y hacerlo nuestro, queríamos saludar a la Luna

única testigo de la locura y ver al futuro a los ojos

sin miedo

a lo inalcanzable

a lo infinito

ahí es donde quiero encontrarte

donde la línea del tiempo se ha disuelto en el mar

que sea ahí también donde se disuelva todo

que sólo se escuche alguna de nuestras canciones 

alguna de las que bailamos en tu auto

y que en la mañana 

el futuro ya no sea nuestro

sea de alguien más

de alguien a quien le importe. 

Al salir el Sol nos fuimos, tomamos un par de fotos 

nos alejamos a toda velocidad por la autopista

sin darnos cuenta que ahí

sobre la mesita

olvidamos nuestras piedras favoritas.

[silvana-lazaro]

Notes about celery, apple pie and the last donut before the airport.

...And although I’m so sorry I left the entire celery in your fridge, I found quite cute you are eating it as a snack at night, even when you are not fond of it.

All these days have gone so fast, and I am so scared... 

Somehow I ended up somewhere in North Carolina, somehow I was in the arms of these beautiful pelirroja, forgetting about the world, and about all the wars, all the noise, the old times, the old fears. Somehow I showed up at the airport and got into her car and played Open by Rhye into the mist of the  fog that invades Raleigh streets.  Somehow life was sweet as an apple pie and all I wanted was that she didn’t have to leave for class and we could lay down there the entire day till we realize food is important  and would just take a pice of quiche from the fridge.   But as perfect as life is not, she would leave early morning, so I would prepare some tea, I would wait, I would think about all the things I forget when she is around. So where are the old times, where’s all I lived and will one day I’d wake up alone in my room and have tea wondering where did her smile went. So what about this world in which I’m a grown up who pay taxes, how to survive without becoming everything I hate, what about my México querido, all the suffer and the joy while I am so far in the Chapel Hill suburbs.  

Somehow I stop to see her. I pause the world. I await the desire. I want to see her eyes and get lost trying to define its color. Somehow I’m not longer there and feel slightly scared. Somehow empiezo a pensar que hay una parte de mí que se ha fugado en otros ojos, en otros brazos y nunca volvió. Somehow siento un vacío eterno y quiero regresar, como alguien que ha nadado muy profundo dentro del mar y mientras el Sol se cae en el horizonte se da cuenta que no hay  vuelta atrás.  De alguna manera sonrío, de alguna manera existo y habito esta piel que te comparte su calor. 

And sometimes in english y aveces en español, your thoughts, my thoughts, tu risa, my cat sounds, tus pasos, my moans, the celery in the fridge I never ate but you bought it cause once I told you I adore it, la biblioteca donde nunca hicimos el amor, the last donut before the airport, tu aroma, mi té, tus litros y litros de café.  Todo pasó como una canción de Blake Mills, como si apenas fueras a pasar por mi al aeropuerto y de repente llegaste y de repente me fui y la canción ya se había acabado mientras compartíamos un blueberry pie and suddenly I’m here in my room writing all hungry and you are so far away to remind me food is important and cookies are not dinner. 

So the once upon a time in North Carolina song is over, but you keep sending songs with your ukulele, and I’m still scared y no sé como despertar ni sé si sigo siendo quien quiero ser o como convertirme en esa persona and then its night time again and I rush into my phone to call you for whatever magic technology and modernity can offer y siento que quién sea que  fui y quién sea quien soy, quiero ser mejor cada vez que te veo.

[silvana-lazaro]

Words with H

Like Win Blutler’s sweated face

pouring its youth at some stage in 2009

or with the stare of a 16 year old Russian gymnast, 

that second before her first move, she’s no longer breathing,

in her mind, she’s already flying.

I was already flying

all speechless and already missing your voice

already scared.

Imagine this is not 2017

imagine this is not winter

imagine you didn’t had that stupid need of love

imagine you make a promise

and some day you are ninety-something

and you  remember that after all the mistakes

and bad thoughts

you kept it, that promise you did to the universe

imagine that feeling

and not this soft doubt 

that awful flavor you always have when you leave the room

when you remember the old times and the old lovers

imagine you no longer feel alone

imagine this exact moment without that loneliness 

how beautiful could it be to be you and just you

and your favorite David Bowie song is playing

just pick one and let it play in your heart.

The end of the year

simple words

I need new songs

my physiotherapist asked about my best christmas gift

I lied

some gap some void

thats what your name is in this  story

I hate to inform you, you are that character in the movie

no one likes.

I no longer wanna google

I need some hug from the real world

the end of the year

will show up to cheer up a bit this ugly world that needs some

help

some

hope

which other word with “H”do you adore?

[silvana-lazaro]

Raul no encuentra sus llaves

Raúl no encuentra sus llaves ni yo mi cordura.  Diciembre no sé que del 2017, suena el timbre y cruzas de nuevo esa puerta, la del departamento y la de mi herida.

Las hojas de los árboles detrás de mi ventana poco a poco desaparecen con el abrazo del viento del otoño y la luz cruza sin piedad mi corazón. La verdad duele, pero la luz es hermosa y yo dejo al Sol cegarme por horas, hasta que me levanto de la cama y me preparo el té, y esa esencia de todo lo impalpable en cada sorbo tranquiliza mi espíritu y pienso que está bien,  que hay tanto aún por conocer.

En el parque, los niños juegan y los perros corren con la pelota entre sus fauces buscando a su dueño y Meli habla sobre la tragedia de quien arranca a la flor para entenderla. El amor no está en poseer y un escalofrío me recorre pensando en mí buscando tu mano. 

Se acaba el año y yo estoy en cama, viendo a la distancia el mundo, y me duele cada uno de los centímetros que me apartan. Se acaba el año y yo sigo llorando a Fidel y añorando los días de ron en la Habana y los días con Lauren Calsada en su auto atrapado en el tráfico de Los Ángeles mientras escuchamos a Chance the raper y reímos y qué increíble es compartir una risa, y aquella noche cuando mi mejor amiga y yo conocimos a todos los pelados del bar Hussongs en Ensenada y nadie nos creía que íbamos a hacer una película pero la hicimos. Por la noche, como a ritmo de “the rip” de Portishead, consigo cerrar en algún momento mis ojos sólo para encontrarte ahí, en ese otro mundo que sólo me pertenece y que es tan real que me asusta.  Me despierto y leo mi horóscopo, Acuario esto y Acuario el otro,  y yo, con la rodilla medio destrozada, me quedo en cama esperando a que el Universo tenga alguna propuesta interesante.

“Raúl no encuentra sus llaves, esto podría se un poema beat”

porque el poema no lo hacen las palabras

por eso te devolví la mirada

diciembre  no sé que del 2017

si Raúl encontró sus llaves

y si aún no terminas la frase

y si hubiera sido mejor dejar su efímera existencia en aquella habitación

que la vio desvaneceserse

y si su belleza era que te lo quedaras en la garganta

y que yo lo viera morir en tus ojos

cuántas veces he escrito la palabra palabra hoy

o la palabra mirada

y si las repito como un mantra

palabra mirada

palabra mirada

palabra mirada

y si todo esto tiene algún sentido

la verdad, no lo sé:

Raúl no encuentra sus llaves,

ni yo,

 las palabras.

[silvana-lazaro]

Una mujer entra a la cafeteria

A los poetas

los invoco para sobrevivir a la noche

hay algo en la palabras que no encuentro

hay algo en las imágenes que extraño

sin duda

 en esta historia hay una trompeta sonando 

rompiendo el tiempo y el espacio

hay que dejara a la luz pasar

abre los ojos

y que su imagen traspase tu pupila

duele ligeramente 

la luna chiquitita

 como un punto blanco triste

así se ve desde la cámara de mi celular yo sólo quiero que el cine sea cine

y que el piano no deje de sonar

nunca hemos tomado whisky de la misma botella

qué lástima

unos hot cakes de “blue berry” con huevos estrellados y papas hashbrown

sabían a gloria

fue de mis últimas cenas en LA

en un Ihop 24 horas

ese día supe que Lauren Calsada era mi amiga

otra historia que nunca sabrás completa

un día me escribiste desde Baja California

y sentí un poco de pena por ti

todo lo que ibas a perderte

en aquella tierra tan sagrada para mi

esa luz que se quiebra 

ese prisma del Sol en Tijuana

hace ya un año de la primera vez que estuve ahí

nada

 sólo era una nota más para mi nostalgia

dónde estás ahora

no me refiero al cine o al bar o a tu nueva casa

quiero decir

dónde estás ahora

me iré lejos

”bien loin” diría Rimbaud

donde el tiempo me alcance

donde las palabras no te encuentren

donde mi juventud recobre algún sentido

donde los sábados te ignoren 

mis amigos esperan por mi

grandes almas

grandes dharmas quizás diría Kerouac

y yo pienso que ya he bebido lo suficiente

y que tal vez mis palabras te encuentren

ahora mismo suena un saxofón

no

 ahora es una guitarra acústica con acordes bastante abiertos

tal vez es un poco de esperanza

tal vez no sea nada

como las lágrimas

que nadie ve

una mujer entra a la cafetería y yo bajo mi libro ligeramente

 espero que seas tú

[silvana-lazaro]

Notes about rocks, fog and subcomandante Marcos words.

To my city, that knows no boundaries, I come back. The heart finds what its sincere to it. It’s a Friday night and under that sentence my life goes all spinning with the record I played. Its a piano blasting through my bones, and this lonely room that shakes on its own structure of simple feelings.  Then for a second I come back to the days I left everything behind and arrived to Japan to prove myself I could be alone. So that day I was in Kyoto all tired looking for a home and ended up at Ryoanji temple staring at the zen garden, conformed by some rocks that softly rested over the space. 

Something about simpleness consoled my heart, some lesson about eternity left me breathless. The universe seemed all in order. I sat there, in the wooden benches wondering. I made the following notes. NOTES ABOUT ROCKS - Simpleness confronts, releases. - The organicity of the garden; you stare at the rocks, and they stare at you. -Rocks think of us exactly what we think of them. - Rocks are the essence of time, the body of metamorphosis, the clearest proof of human ambiguity. - It generates hypnotism, staring at a rock that hasn’t been exposed to change, that hasn’t been touched or hasn’t been the victim of a river’s trajectory or the rolling on the earth.  It’s been already  3 years from that moment, but constantly I mentally go back there. Last weeks I was filming our new film, we were in the middle of Baja California, all far from home, trying to survive human betray and at the same time trying to create images and sounds I’ve been thinking for months now. Those days were extremely hard, many things were falling apart as we made our road under the Baja’s highways, many factors, many elements, many pieces where hanging, and many times I thought everything was a mistake but I had to feel blessed to be there. I had take my mind back to all the moments I was alone in my room writing and yearning to film. I had to go back to the time my best friend and I crossed the lands and kept going till by miracle we ran into the right places to film. I had to remember where I come from and all that had o happened to me so I could be there, directing this film.  Dreams are not perfect, dreams come true but you have to be honest to yourself to recognize them. I wondered why did I have to write such complicated film. I wondered why do I always have to be like that, challenging my own energy and strength. I wondered if I’m simply too ambitious and selfish. I wondered how far could I lead all the friends who agreed to come across the country with me.  

The most complicated days happened while filming under the melting sun and the mystery moon. I woke up every morning thinking about the words of one of the best humans who have stepped this world, named Subcomandante Marcos also named Subcomandante Moises: Mandar obedeciendo. Mandar obedenciendo, mandar obendenciendo, mandar obedenciendo, mandar obedeciendo: Mandar obedeciendo.

I woke up every morning thinking there was no other way but this, the unknown, and had to be brave and wise although I had no answers but actually give my heart and soul to the moment and hope that’ll be enough to create something, that’ll be enough to everyone to believe in this project too. 

We were tired and far from home, but shared a moment of true friendship, of pure magic. We were tired and far from home, but survived together and never had we been closer. We were tired and far from home, and although some left, the vitals were there fighting against the odds. And somehow we won.  Now everyone is back home, to the routine and figuring their own lives. Now we no longer share the same house. Now we don’t share the same shower nor the same view of the sea. Now seems so imposible it actually happened. But it did, and one night we were all running across the fog, with the cold sand refreshing our feet, laughing like true soulmates, some sharing the same cigarette, some screaming when the waves reached the tip of their toes.  I take with me that feeling of fog and pureness. I take with me the clamato beer flavor I used to hate but Rut, taught me to taste always sharing her kindness. I take with me the hug Andy gave me without really knowing me and without asking me anything in return, I take with me Sebas patience and trust. I take with me Lavaniego’s commitment and laughter. I take with me Andres’s new music creations that gave me some minutes of peace. I take with me Marisol’s comprehension and Iching lessons that reminded me universe is all connected. I take with me Cons’s beautiful vibes and tremendous heart. I take with me Shei’s true passion in the search of the cinematographic instants and of course I take with me the amazing friendship Diana has built with me that will always takes us further.  It’s a Friday night and finally feel like crying.  I can  barely believe it happened. I still have nightmares but this film isn’t finished yet, I’m not quite sure where will it takes us now, but I know, I truly know we’ll finish it.

[silvana-lazaro]

Russian Dream

And wake up shivering and sweating. This image again, this little pain.  A sweet voice comes from there, that old land I once stepped in. Moscow is a name I never say by mistake, and there we are at Chokolanitza talking something. This is my favorite café in town, I told you trying to bring the moment and the memory and the feeling I had then.  And you look at me barely smiling, asking ‘How do I look?’ and I keep quiet for a second, but that second takes me everywhere, takes me other times I could see in your eyes all the hope I needed and all the adventure and all the greatness of universe.  But present is now, here in Moscow, in the city that I never recall by mistake, and here is you and your 12 o’clock shadow asking me ‘How do I look?’ And the second happened and I reckon you look a bit lost, like if there was   something missing.  And you give me this serious face trying to deny my last words, but you know you know its true. And if we were back in town I would have never say this I’m about to write, but this is a Russian dream so I do I do say it.

You seem a bit lost two colored Magnolia, but if you let me, I know a way in this town, I’ve seen the magic appear here in the middle of the grumpy Russians and in the heart of history, I know how to cure your amber heart, this is Moscow, a city I never visit by mistake, so we can do everything tonight. I end my speech and you say nothing but follow me through the night. And I’m crying inside and I tell you about this lonely night I went to buy a bottle of wine after talking to you  and I confess I went all the way Condesa staring at the horizon as If you were there waiting for me. And I bought one of my favorite wines that reminds me of Baja, and spent the night writing tales and silly poems I will never give you. And we drank my favorite Vodka, it isn’t the best but I picked it when I was 15 and tasted like glory then so it tastes like glory now. You are bit skeptical of this but let me keep my own feeling and support my story.  So this is Moscow, I tell you a bit drunk, the city I never forget. So this is Moscow, I tell you yelling life, the city I will never forget, and I start crying and give a fuck and don’t even try to clean the trace of my tears in my face. And I make a little dance, arrhythmic but organic and full of my soul, and we are just right in front the Volga river and this old amazing sky scraper Stalin built and damn I hate that guy but I adore this building, and I am rambling and then you scream something too, you look at me like as  if you could see my spirit and all I have never told you, you look at me as if you knew it and say nothing, and I say nothing either and we let the night speak so this melancholic song plays in our heads and we know this dream will end, and its so sad but so beautiful that is going to end and I hold your hand maybe just as an impuse that comes from all I’ve seen in the movies.

So we wake up, this is no longer Moscow. You are there somewhere sticking your eyes into all you adore and hate of this city, telling someone your plans, where will you go next and how sad is running into people that tells you you seem a bit down lately. And I’m here drinking this bottle of wine, that reminds me of Baja, writing, you know, about you and this dream I never had but if only I could and if only you would I will show you Moscow, the city I will never forget.

[silvana-lazaro]

Day off

And in this day off 

I keep rehearsing that song

I never wrote

I keep trying to remember the words

but spring has never been for a soul like mine

spring will only tear my heart apart 

if only for a second I hold that image of the flowered dress she wore

with no reason inside her room

and all I was thinking was on making love

sweet spring young stupid love

and in this day off I reckon 

this is not who I wanted to be

but  I’m fighting so bad, so bad 

that one day I will

till then I keep saying yes yes yes

to what life whispers 

so this is the unknown

all happy scary place I live in

nice to meet you

I am young but wanna try

I am young and

broken hearted

but can sing silly songs in my guitar

and  I will give one

to whoever can make me dance

the ink of this lonely night.

[silvana-lazaro]

Life looked like this. Tamawaba, Japón. 

2015

De Silvana Lázaro

[silvana-lazaro]

Old notes about 20 bucks, Fidel and that magic substance that makes the universe smile.

The 20 bucks I gave to the chicano I talked to after the disappointing night at that lesbian club in San Diego. Lesbians in crowds are the worst.  We were talking about life, I told that stranger I was so sad everything was gonna get really shitty in the States (and in the world).  We looked each other in the eyes, we could tell future is gonna be rough. I didn’t buy him any flower, cause, giving flowers is super cheesy  and the last time I did so took all my soul and I still don’t recover.  Before I got into the uber I gave him my last 20 bucks. The stupid drunk version of me always end up giving money away to strangers, like that time in NYC, where I cried talking with this beautiful greek taxi driver who’s story left me breathless and inspired so I gave him the biggest tip in the world.... but I had no money whatsoever. Today I was working and dreaming about this new movie I’m to do and all of a sudden I got really sad. Somehow I think about Fidel and some really deep feeling invades me, the utopia that Cubans fought for stand still under the caribbean sun. Little countries still have the chance to dream, and Cuba is one of those.  Many thoughts, many opinions but I’m quite sure that the most wonderful part of the 56 revolution hasn’t been yet seen. So goodbye Fidel, extraordinary man who’s life left Cubans educated and healthy. Cubans may not keep building socialism but will have the mind of the new man Che Guevara dreamt with while sleeping in all the jungles he hide just to wake up to keep fighting. I think about Fidel and feel that there’s no other, even with all the flaws and mistakes, his name will always inspire someone who needs to believe that freedom it’s possible if you are to fight for it.  

Then I walk down a street near home and a little part of me goes away for a second. I had been there before, simply walking but with the right dosis of that magic substance that makes  the universe smile, simply walking with my best friend, all aware of life, breathing our youth and swearing ourselves we won’t surrender,  we must go for adventure. We talked till we got speechless  and we swore we got to try. If I will film this complex movie, I hope so, all I’m sure is all the unknown is welcome in this 22 year old body. If I’m to believe in you again, I can’t tell but all this freedom taste better than all the wine you had to drink to be able to talk to me.  If I am to drink again, I’m not sure but I already know what the best whisky tastes like during the dizziest nights I had around the world just hanging around with great people getting in all kind of trouble.  If there’s anything else to be said tonight, I’ll let my dreams to whisper my darkest side till the sun makes the sky sparkle again in this winter time.

[silvana-lazaro]

Young lovers in old Havana Cuba, 2016 by Silvana Lázaro

[silvana-lazaro]

The unsaid and the undone

For all the unsaid and the undone, I apologize. So simple that are words to be written and to be told, thats the trick.  With more images than letters, my world has been changing. I’ve been feeling the insolence of writing but somehow I stopped, I erased, I betrayed.  And finally tonight I feel strong enough to recognize my insecurity. Behind some forgotten nights, it’s that part of me I don’t wanna know about, and while locking it down  in the abandoned land of lost memories, I’ve been feeling weak while trying to express all this I am, all the mistakes and the terrible desires. And then that night I was yelling, and pushing the knife against that body. And then that other night I was taking that love just to full fill the thirst of the lonely road this last year was.  So that person I’m not but I was there, saying all the yes to what I deny, hurting someone who I swore I had left behind, that person was wandering around my room and my dreams, and wouldn’t let me write my story.  So right now that person is sitting here, next to me. And I’ve forgiven her cause I need her to tell me what is wrong, I need her to heal this old thoughts and at the end of the whisky bottle, she needs me too to guide her through the edge of the night so we could actually close our eyes and rest this life. All that makes me cry, oh I guess I’ve been just too inspired.  The San Francisco’s days or the Havana’s rum, the dizziness of Tijuana’s streets or the spectacular deserts crossed all the way Baja California, all those days left this skin breathing life and absorbing the image of freedom in this 22 year old body I inhabit. Maybe I feel too inspired as well from the hurting things I told her, and the love I took for selfishness and the scars I have from being hedonistic and stupid thinking I can taste all the magic of life in one night, at the end of the glass. Now I’m here and no longer wanna hide. I’ll show this face who has seen me be bold and come back with glorious times, but also has witnessed all my fall downs. This is me, keeping the promise of paradise and staying in this city without the fear of my own self collapsed, I’m here to sit and tell this silly blog I won’t let it down, I’ll give it my entire story even when it’s not something to be proud of: For all the unsaid and the undone, I apologize.  

[silvana-lazaro]

                                                                          Horizon                                                              Santa Monica, CA.  2016                                                                    de Silvana Lázaro

[silvana-lazaro]

Sobre Cuba, muchas notas, muchas fotografías, muchas sensaciones, pero ante todo, otra forma de  disfrutar la vida. De Silvana Lázaro

Habana, 2016