the river passes by

writings by Gustavo Alvarado
writings registered to the u.s. copyright office
© Gustavo Alvarado 2008

note to the reader: the intention of these writings are ment to be read in a linear manner

this collection of writings is dedicated to all dying flowers…



the river passes by

silently the butterfly gazes at the river passing by
a blow of a sigh caresses its wings
wind takes her to places which provoke envy display in my eyes
cold rocks rounded and smooth
fragile like the soft skin of a woman
tolerates slavery and torment  
imposed by the river passing by all mad currents

have no conscious of your harm
red ants crawling out of a gasp of water
encountering an adventure multiplied a thousand times by their scale

on that mountain peak
where all scenery is highlighted by the river passing by
have been brave enough like the eagle to forget
the endless shinning curved snake like bodies?
frigid liquids
civilizations dependant centuries
has it?
vital to all of us

have decided for their proposition to let us free
am staying here but eventually we all have to go
it is convenient to specify the great fear
better not say what will be encountered in the deep waters
once submerged
have been told there are found great cities
of gold and marble
of hatred and love
of fire and rainy days
wind rushing water currents
sustain the pity
once found inside the clown
where under the rock does the crab hide?
can it see the night?
approaching through the glare of golden thin skins on the waters
dawn’s side announces a new hope
for hunters to find their ways
through sharp coral forests
cold and cloudy
sustains its memories abundant and colorful
dominated by greenish sceneries.


a theater is erected

scales graphically adorned
they all wear tuxedos to commemorate the new born
once again
a celebration is gathered to calm the delirious impatient mothers:
“it’s a boy!!! “

now let us surrender for the day
for we are exhausted
it is so soon to leave the theater at this moment
so sad to see you go
tranquil human mind
have experienced the agony of death?
all the clouds surrounding majestically the idea where it is proposed
magnificent and tolerant
don’t we all parade languidly to the exhibition?

“come in child”
all the excitement and lament
you are the children of the future
contemplate the evening’s face
surrounded by patience
to all we deliver patience
the all mighty one has arrive
sounds of pleasure in the bells
we commence.


land of joy

prominent epoch
auxiliary the state
in which we search for the lost jewels
who among us neglects to encourage their validity?
we keep digging the hole
which it will lead us to places of encounters
mirrors placidly evoking
displaying true memory

the fuck with the search
where are the expectations for tomorrow?

“have not come here to satisfy any expectations”

it is only an argument that is terrified by such proposition
here we are
grabbing hands until tomorrow’s encounter.


land of fertilization

the meetings of today’s commemoration
here we come again to the land of pleasure
naked woman running desperately
mad current surfaces of warm winds
searching for places of freedom

sand corners are sculpted
by sharp blown edges
circling minds inscribed
repetitive rotations and infinitely mad

among repeating narcotic truthful penetrations of joy
we are all here
to commemorate illusions of our wishes
here we come again to the land of pleasure
whispers and sun beating rays of wisdom
caught like fishes
hooks inside the mind

here we are again displaying subconscious rapid illuminations
take the map.


the call of the wild

the call of the wild dances upon the mountain relief
all of them voices dance around the ring of fire
until we encounter the river
where your sight must thrive
into the memory of navigation

overwhelmed is your touch
brush strokes to paint them surfaces
caress them with memories overall their existence
corrupts the mind to take advantage of your arms

howling nights we have found
under a lovely depiction risen by sunshine
crystal reflected timid waterfalls
all insight of how it should be

cannot recall the day we heard you cry
we have found liberty deeply molded in our skin
dance in rhythms when it calls
guiding us to sanctuary.


in the sea

of all the tales lived and imagined during childhood
there are constellations seen at night
in which they grasp our company
for the sea is constantly whipping the body
salty waters permeating the skin
cold nights were the worse
sunny cloudy at times in the pacific atmosphere

have encountered a path at shore side
for the depths have decreased the exhausted hope
shores awaiting for exploration and exploitation

where are the reasons why we all fight for?
to be certain of what so ever?
for existence?
it is only for the ones who grasp it in the free flowing air
and inspire themselves to have the courage and persuasion
to be followed by other simple minds
mimicking the literary agendas of the educated

have not come here in the sea where nothing is certain
for sure death is
for sure am blinded by scenery
and wind rushing salty waters
once prevailed over us

and how we dare to dress you up
infested with our commodities
without knowing what truth is
we only respond to the logic applied
according to what we have learned
or read or pretend to know
no one is borne learned  
nor wise
but we die wise and never bothered to ask why?.


seedless earth

seedless earth
we treat you like a whore
throwing stones at your face
once we accept our guilt
cannot we not caress your mistreated face?
cracked by the natural timed course of necessity
moisture created from perspiration

must wonder with an exalted spirit through the caves
encountering the tender creature
who will realize and confirm how much have we failed
all that we have demonstrated is:
we do not give a fuck to hear your cries
for only humanity we care about

when the wild calls us
we are in need of a hand
in a desperate land where no one hears.


tell us:

how silent we must be?
to encounter Neptune in the sea
where constellations are seen at night
grasping our company tonight

of what we know?
must jump into an infinite thought and doubt?
wonder what would it be like?
for all to be encountered
is a mirror paved street
where the reflection of the ugly face made it beautiful
so i destroyed them pavers of glass and lies and illusions

touched the earth
tip toed running
radiant highway of sunflowers distant displayed rays
run through the desert painted surfaces
can be grasped with fingers and dreams

would not it be wonderful to encounter the snake?
aren’t we all running together?
aren’t we all riding it together?
but we just can’t realize

encountering the past almost near the end
of our conversations for future discussions
of thoughts propagating like pollen
and one day we just are waiting for the performance to begin.


scene one

the curtains fall to meet our expectations:

scene one

“want my money back madafucker!”

‘fuck brotha let’s go!

“i know a place where insanity will blow your dick to exhaustion!”

‘it ain’t all painted with fingers
besides we better use strokes and paint with chisels and spatulas
the memory is carved and evokes what has been already written
are exposed to the outside world
where eyes see and pretend to exist in the carnal body’

“but don’t we all realize?!
that we are just fucken computers!
have realized how much it hurts to pretend we have our own will
we are just left to wonder
and conclude our own convenience
dominated by nature”

‘let us walk to the desert
in search for a deep waters’.


the newspaper reads instead of the?

at desert’s shore
a new child is born yearly
unnamed and abandoned like pollen
glitters of dawn’s cries awakes her every morning
for he must crawl another day

its eyes wonderfully beautiful
blue as mirrors reflecting the sky
no one has classified it yet
untouched and abandoned
rebirth of butterflies
imploring resonances among the arid air
crawling for its existence
based on its nature
natural instincts
savaged respiratory  expulsions
as the sun god punishes with its hypocritical caresses
coloring its skin the same as the earth it crawls on

insanity is encountered in the other side of morning
its name is unknown
its sex is unknown
as he approaches the other side of morning
she encounters the influential custom of rules and validities
evil empire citizens
dressed in golden robes and red vivid feathered skins
eyes wide opened white ovals
golden beaks and rusty traces of blood
hands crimped due to turning of pages of book read manuscripts
are predators

“good afternoon”

the chief evil empire citizen said
the child could converse with his mind
for she could not speak any verbal language
no influences

“i presume you are troubled by our presence?”…

the child kept crawling
ignoring them and their rituals of sudden intelligence and persuasion
of fine educational gestures and civilized mannerisms
of convincing amicable intentions
handshakes and formal gestures
filled with centuries of wonders
of books passed on by altering generations
never really sitting down and pondering their purpose nor validity

once learned of the child’s ignorance of language
and understanding of conversation
and understanding its survival needs
proceeded to the other side of morning
and converted themselves into water:

“isn’t life beautiful to come concaving and ripping off your skin
the pedals and colors of reds and yellows…
come little one
come into this place
where petals distribute all hopes and smiles to the ground

virtues of the night
old as time as the snake
beloved quakes
shaking mists and cerebral zests
fields of aroma
sunsets hills and boulevards
nothing exists
eyes and hearts
little aroma tonight

arrives soon through the moon”.


post influences

i have come today to the desert to celebrate my birth
morning dew
asleep after drinking all the water i could like a flower
pondering and planning how to erupt
and surprise the smile of the new born
to see the light of shadows of hundred hues of grays
today and tomorrow for it desperately to come
we close the eyes and wonder where our life has gone to
within waves as the current collides
invoked torment arrives but i have only good intentions

colors are mine
rotating are the thoughts of lavished greens
and pondering purples
the sunset has stop smiling
green trees of foliages of thousand hues
of thousand crystals
of thousand greens
of thousand purples and fall browns
hearts have filled themselves like black and white photographs
black and white

have come to celebrate my ignorance
cannot go back
reversible we are not no more
cries solemnly attributed to you
have come to this door to take on the opportunity
awaiting patiently
switching back and forth from decision making
following you so one day will be disappointed
with only one outcome:
empty death

cannot escape
but what death cannot harm?
nor deflate?...
memories are the eyes
and scenes of the other ones
of flowers
other times and crimes
joyful thoughts of other smiles
of hearts expressing liberty and arrogance
cries of passion as it inhales life!
it is not profound nor deep in the mind nor the soul
it is inside the heart

there are no crimes committed here for we have sinned
for drinking the water of life and of necessity
programmed by influences and existence
searching for immortality
sins mixing among colored fragrances
derived from the color of blood
as if they were dormant
and agile
asleep deep into a hundred dreams of joy and negotiations
where the only green pasture surrounds us

as the head swings towards the sign in the sky
ponder upon one idea of surrendering upon grief
upon notions and believes
surrender the empty mind to you my lord
claim it as you wish
do not take the heart

green light of the river passing by
how do you see me?
within minute distances of golden waves
carrying your sight and carving the future

carving the body and the mind.


in the desert

it hurts to realize how blind we have been
for we cannot see what it is projected upon us
for we can see what is projected upon us
have fallen into the abyss of doubt and clarity
of consumption and dependency
of needs and wants
have focused the eyes of perception
to another stage other than the exposed world?
air we breathe has sharpened the heart’s perception
to another stage other than the exposed world?
therefore the mind is troubled and jammed

every time we weak up in the morning
we are unconsciously programmed
to obey nature and civilization
must eat and breathe
must walk for transportation
must shit for digestion
gather and collect food
feel discontent towards the creator
cannot do anything we want
are fucken slaves!
would like to be free from or of what and not be controlled?
for what?
so you can declare your own independence?
and feel better and content about oneself?
we have found the truth of actions and beliefs?
for we are not robots nor experiments?
we are just fooling ourselves

it is a fucken dissolution
it is an encounter with emptiness and solitary screams
where are the companions for us to walk away from slavery?
who among you will revolve inside the heads
against this capable insanity?
everyone walks alone
for we are a couple of believers:
of the earth
the sea and sunshine

belief is not the act of doing
wonder how life really is in its essence?
searching and evolving
accommodating oneself to the sunlight like a flower
afraid of the truth that once found
nature is our worst enemy
we are outsiders.


the land where no one hears



here we are in the land where no one hears
in the land of fragrant millionaires
exploitation in order to exist and produce
attending the demands claimed and rejected

let us surrender for a moment
to the need of the have not
have no soul nor heart
have no hope nor sunshine
have no joy nor opportunities

let us surrender and comprehend the voices of joy
hidden within the preoccupation
earning their living and air like animals
praying to the gods who have forgotten them

the play consists of dressing like an animal:
providing for human consumption
inconsiderate we will be treated

“i earn a dollar a day”

‘what do you earn?’

the wise indian looks at the situation
taking only what is needed

“i earn three dollars a week”

‘what have you learned?’



come on children
come to the theater
the movie has just begun again

in the circles of life we seek to encounter the same act
over and over again
green displayed and distant vegetation
interacting with the common man
placidly the people are scattered inside their deep sorrows

“earn my life with pride”

here color does not discriminate against reality
we are considered to be buried deep in the ground
left all alone
screaming silently
mimicking and howling
because no one hears
until we sprout from the earth
empty attentive eyes
sweet swarthy skin
hills like collars inscribed in the heavens
hills of dark variations of yellows and blues
painted and fading to the distance
the place where corn propagates
seal of life among the people
dreaming for future generations to come
belief in their gods is their only truth
dwellers under the giant tables
tables populated by modern civilizations
mimicking clouds
devouring precious leftovers



morning dew dwellers
awaking to attend their needs
encounter a field of corn to supply our needs
the need of nations
wealth that cannot be touched
sinners for being born in the land where no one hears
sinners allocated to the “lowest” in society

lowest in what:




the vulture awaits for death to visit and knock on the door
of the ones who neglected to paint their front door with blood
human first born sacrifice
vultures awaiting for death
to visit the green scenic valley below
ants provide an example for survival and payment for life
painted by Dalí
water stream carries the innocent  fragile soils
and trash of the have not

i was born here in the land where no one hears
sudden cry of the wild calls us
who saw me grow up in its fragile soft skin
have run through its prairies and exploited its beauty?
soft moonlight agitated to despair
its fragile arms among the green life exploiting its existence
indian women dancing on their heads
admitting their fortune
giving their generations a surrender convenience



the mood today is set by unconformity
obsessive to penetrate his mind
and only obtain unconformity on paper

noises of bugs and frogs
dwellers of the river passing by
nocturnal life culminating the surroundings
lighting outlines the far distance
once seen monster made out of rock and earth
dressed up with carpets of green wealthy fields
where impregnated childhood memories cease the courage
convert our memories worn out and restless
reminding how fragile we are
fragile mind
soft skin covering its essence
sucks the tears during weak moments
irrigating them like mist to the spectators

we all are to announce our happiness and conformity
lines of white candles
vibrations of voices and heart beats
excited to confess and express our dreams



waiting for someone to hear us besides our mother?
we place our feet on the ground
marking the path for others to follow
silently we proceed to the deep valley bellow

we are only dreamers
write down our thoughts
negativism detain our thoughts
from evolving into the search for answers
into the realization of our dreams

we are born with a price tag
we feel the supremacy of wealth which accommodates our life
dictating the evolution and procedures to occur
tranquility and thirst
it is all chained connected through all the valleys
only our creators know who we really are
and their purposes for creation
thoughts perceived through paintings
in which we stick our hands and strike with colors of decisions

it is interesting to examine
how we are differently displayed in the mirrors
we are not photogenic
and display such paintings as reminders
ultimately have faith and conformity
unlike it was mentioned before
deep into the realm of hunger
even though seemed conformed
rage is awaiting to be exposed

fields of corn
humanly displayed marionettes
perfect fields of wasted opportunities
must weak up and collectively be
on the search for the new Picassos
encased in rocks of opportunities.


as a believer

never felt illusions of toxic penetrations and doubts
am i here as a believer?
or am i here as a follower?
encountering the blue sky
latent smile drawn on faces
evoking memories

rushing warm air caressing faces
suicidal water falling down
falling at the desert shores
seems as if they are being caught
by an extended arm of a blooming flowers

here we are crossing the desert
no water nor hope
for we have come as an illusion
as a believer of life and eternity:
of soul and heart
of heart and sou.


the letter tells us

have found a letter of hope
a letter which intends to guide us all
of how should we view the sky and its immensities
of how we should dream
and abort the modern man made believe reality
which has disguised itself as truth

it exposes reality and compensation
gives us illusions
of how the space is to be enjoyed and populated
composed of red colors
rapid forced rubbed pink
and white strokes

we all sketch in canvases
our illusions and joys
once we reach the sky

blue sky is to be called

“do not worry”
the letter tells us
for it will come for you and take you into its wings
to flavor the air and caress maternity
as we all navigate the blue sky
for we all are natives of the sky

will count time
one by one
until our turn comes
until joy takes us under its wing
at the end dropping us at desert’s shores

to follow the call of the wild.



you are the god where the creator of life dwells
in its eternal spiritual presence
you have created us and painted our surfaces
given us
have presence our death
burn in your flames
powerful arms
will and gestures

thank you for the music you have inspired
thank you for letting us ask and dance around the ring of fire
escaping the night light and windows of hell
dreams of sunlight and blooming flowers
awaiting for your presence to caress and oppress
understanding rebellion and given existences
maternal understanding and comprehending its children.


windows of hell

have encountered reality?
it ain’t all long enough to await for the ride
a nail once told
how succulent the human flesh is
for it was trying to convince its ignorance
with all the glory of persuasion and education
it was driven thru its right hand repetitively
until rushing from its feet all life and existence was felt
joys and hopes
observed being collected into flasks
connected to foreign origins and arteries
in the afternoon all visitors
distant are lined up approaching the table
“we is selling the salvation to the highest bitters
who cannot afford
the word of pain and suffering
of the reality of the non existence
of dogmatic ways of life and religious believes”…

decided to dig deeper into the cave
will bring fire and dance upon it
once collected in the middle of the circle
laughing and fucking all night long
demented minds stepping into other doors
of the given choices and predictions

dance in rhythms of pleasure
women degrading the nature of creation
men fucking their own children
until their dicks are deteriorated
immense pain as it discards blood
here at the death bed with an exhausted ass
where there is no such definition of morality

rattles of the snake…
so scared to hear your voice
patiently lounging in you throne
sweet and delicate
fragmented harmony
bite them all
take them to sanctuary and exile
riding you all will be

puppets have converted ignorance into reality
fragrant and colorful
dwelling in the cave where we discovered fire
it ain’t all orange
sheets are scattered with blood and hunger
cold and sweated
discontent and blinded
“should commit mental suicide”
for the pain can be endured
taste of your mother’s feces are to be sweet for punishment

ancient snake
come to save our souls
take us for an infinite ride
give us support
for all have seen here
religion has forgotten us”


have been given a knife
the task is to take the newborn’s heart from his fragile thorax:
“a child we found crawling at desert’s shores
on a day like today…”

here i am
voices of pain
people with sticks inserted in their asses
skin pilled off from women’s backs
salt being poured
ants crawl and bite the flesh
stench of decay and hunger
ants crawling
feeding and laughing pleasantly
remind me of politicians and aristocrats
televisions and billboards displaying a sunny day
propaganda for the consumer
billboards electrically displayed
in the world where energy is restricted
green minded fucks
taking advantage to become richer
their dicks cut off and shoved in their mouths violently
eyes pocked out with nails
eroded faces from blood streams
cold waterfalls
dirt of hunger for life
for pardon
bathing and flocking for the essence of purity and existence
melted flesh
dispersed in the field of screams and nights
women being brutally beaten  
coke bottles stuck into the path of birth
light and creation
degrading the human being and their existence
degrading ourselves
to favor the cause and execute the idea
for the sake of understanding over and over again
have hesitated to continue and opened my eyes
finally renouncing to my kind…


a revolution is to be announced:
peace for what?
we hunger for war and death
hunger for sorrow and greed
see you cry
mothers of children out there
dying for beliefs
and conveniences of politicians and millionaires
see you cry until i am in the other side
silent peace
for what?
inner strength
hunger for blood
the whole world suffers
money and greed
this is mine!

for shit
to see me speak
to see us act
admiration and education
see my self
see yourself
it is natural


ghosts we are
we scare ourselves
once the mirror reveals our faces
desires or not
we are abandoned
thinking and hesitating
seating on all the theaters we attend
in the cold seat
playing the same episode over and over
conversing intelligently of the possibilities of the message


human adoration
to the mind and physical
not to the heart
not to the intention
not to the soul
mindless entertainment
rushing streams of still pictures and dead words
dictating the future and consumption

in the outside environment we don’t count
not even stand out
not even the movie star look alike
nor the original
for our vision must reflect flesh and sex identification
skin color does not matter
for we all are fucking racists
for we all are created under the same  image
peeled skin reflect the true human uniform
denial and conveniences
we all blend in!..


criticize and be wise
criticize myself
confused not more
doubtful and surprised
disappointed to see and search
pray for forgiveness and light:

‘bird of pray flying high…
feed me
feed me emotions
for i don’t feel no mo
as darkness floats inside my veins
feed me colors
blues and reds and yellows
of the what so called poisonous nature loving animals
caged in our own necessities
feed me for i shall die and resurrect
closed are the eyes
waiting for you
bird of pray
flying high…’

cold mornings
hungry body
time tortures the being
on the bed it is still waiting to fall a sleep
to step into another door
and to encounter other theaters
waiting for the river to take him

vaguely walking around
where am i now?
escaping the reality given
fucking life they gave me
or just don’t know a dirty rat
walking at night without a light
for the next morning
what if i die?
would the wind notice my absence?
would the sky pause its rushing clouds?
for a moment to remember me
or would you drown on the money collected here
take me home
take me home
then will be free
and forever

in hell no mo’.



extremely intoxicating are the walls
placidly eroding the flesh
for having submerged extremely into agony
into the light of drums and screams

it has been rising for hours
trying to excavate upwards against gravity
will power
in this humid composition of liquids and granular sand
dislocating a joyful aroma for the senses
grateful for the new discovery that will mold the heart

the earth’s strength is felt
sandy beaches
and the closer it rises
feels warmth
humid smell
accelerating to approach a new beginning
of new yellow and orange petals

will stand erupting to the clear air
erupting like a fish into the air
waiting and desperately
agonizing capabilities of reflexes
for returning to water and breathe again

to be an empty canvas and an immense color palette
desires to describe the sky again
desires to draw life again
empty memories
infiltrated illusions
have permeated throughout time

these illusions have narrated stories
with light and sunshine
of eternal grasses and infinite over monstrous mountains
moved by forces of platonic creation
all these stories are anxious to be experienced
once again yearly
once again uprising
lavish legends
once again uprising
within fragmental and accumulated memories

do remember the light approaching
remember once being under a birch forest?
light infiltrating its foliage from afternoons to sunsets
the resemblance can be seen
when the earth parts away
when anchoring the arms and propel into the water

breathe again
see again
feel the wind
trying to tear the foundations

in this occasion
i have arrived in a field of distinct greens
prairies and altars
filled with agonizing flowers
screaming impatiently
suffocating among the air
rose into a theater of pain and joy
rose into a theater of drama and envy
of love and power
of strength and conformity for the given water
cannot wait for the rain to bring some air
must rest today.


childhood crucifixion

all the times we have arrived here
have become more impatient to find out what it has become
empty available canvases
displayed thru childhood
left forgotten and unpainted

do dream at nights and daydream during the day
of the cultures encountered and created
the unnecessary influences
targeted to mental consumption

worries and unconformities
as seen in the mirror
traveling distant nightmares and diurnal passions
within windows of hell

compositions and strategies
we have come into an understanding of the how and why
of the maybe or the what ifs

cannot contemplate
gliding into all encountered
into all loved and suffered
it is in our thirst for knowledge and curiosity
leading us to crucify our own living inner childhood
until we have found out what we have done to our selves
for neither parent knew the right path
guidance inherited throughout infected generations and cultures
cannot blame no society nor customs
for we all are creatures
once dumped into the river’s current
in which some of us were lucky to have floated
and enjoy sunshine
unlike some of us have drowned or are still floating
and have not manage to reach the shore lines

when the doors open
do i look at the sky?
search for flowers
greeting my instinct of survival
no manifestation has come by today
do not take me with them

at night
implore for the once child of wonders
wild afternoons
green prairies already painted of thousand hues
trees forever green
remembering the questions being asked to grown children
we are all a child in the eyes of our mothers
million eyes looking at us
individual piercing a million times

expectations arrive one by one
sometimes in multiples and sometimes alone
diurnal and nocturnal
all growth during days
have become once again

retracting the nail anchoring us to the cross
wooden cross of aspen
winter tolerant
easily dispersed throughout the wild
throughout days
easily rotten
once fallen to the ground of wisdom
of necessities to exist in the material world
reversal memories and odd desires
inside the album of memories
how it used to be
for the choice was made not to abandon civilization
nor existence
nor life
nor the light

weakness and mindlessness
innocent child
laughter and smiles
wounds heal daily
scars are visible.


death bed

this empty room
morning dew of white walls
filled with paintings
of purchased encounters and once forgotten

the last carnal sunshine
have been counting the seconds and days

today is my birth
my bed is the altar:
offer the heart
offer the soul
discard the mind and throw it to the floor
where all the hands of criticism and eyes will devour it
will infect themselves of useless recordings and thoughts
of useless acquired propaganda
of useless and misused intelligence

it will repeat among centuries
will disperse to the garbage of results
once they taste the produced rancid mind

i offer the garden of distant sunflowers
as a token of appreciation of the thousand and millions of times
your presence has been implored
constant repetitive reminders
to see your face
presence and warmth

distant prairies
altars of flowers
unpainted prairies are prepared
crossing rivers
leading us to the ocean
salty waters
of war and greed

all the waters surround the room
filled with all the loved ones
they all expect the departure
smiles and memories shared

surrounded by rivers and erosions
inviting again to swim
and find new believes
new memories
new land

impregnated in the heart
of the loved ones
plowing the path for us to join successively
together through different lives and encounters
different prairies

yearly births
into the green
open pedals
once evolved and crawling from the river shores

to all dying flowers:
we must continue filling our gracious memories
penetrating our hearts
for it breaths forever and revives our existence
again and again in any given land

we are “the big fish”.


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all work shown done by gustavo adolfo alvarado peraza 19721210