Internet Memories
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"Do not say it was a dream, that all we lived was a reverie, do not say it was a game and you played with my illusion. Don't say it was a dream, that everything we felt was not true, don't say that everything is a dream, a discouraging one without reason"
Don't say it Was all a Dream.
　
Is it an impression or is the time really going very fast?
　
The time still being absolute is relative and does not affect us all equally, twelve years and ago that magical Christmas in Shangrilá and my perception of those days is so close that I can still remember the sea poems, the stories of Anna , Peter's poems and Bat tales.
The forum for various causes was dissolved and all those shared moments were lost that magical Christmas, I should rejoice, at that time I wrote fatal, but the writings on the net are testimonies of a moment, not objects for an exhibition, and I would love to reread some moments of that Christmas that as intrepid pioneers live on the Web.
Marian was the activist, Anna the webmaster, Zorku the revolutionary, JM the Red chronicler, Mar and Peter were the poets, Eolo, CandĂ, Amaia, Elena LaBella and Aphrodite collaborated assiduously, and Bat seduced us with stories and tales of personal invoice.
　
Relationships on the Web are similar to real life relationships, we meet and lose people, some get tired and move away, but at other times they stay with us forever.
Today raise my cup for Marian, for Abraham, for Trinity, for Rolula, for Francisco, for Blanca and for Juan, they have in common that they have gone away suddenly long before their time, all have left behind many dreams to fulfill and a bunch of people who miss them and remember them. By navigating through its walls and rereading some publications we return them to life and we can feel them next to us, possibly in the future to be able to contact some deceased suffice to visit his profile on the walls of Facebook.
Solo soy un ser humano
que odia el maltrato,
que detesta la tortura y
que reniega del dolor.
Solo soy un triste relato,
un fértil sustrato,
que abona la tierra y
que aborrece el rencor.
Tan solo estoy de paso,
vuelo en el ocaso,
y con el mañana
me encontraré.
　
Solo soy un pensamiento,
que abomina del odio,
la ira, la intransigencia y
que sufre con el horror.
Solo soy un sentimiento,
una nota, un alegato,
una palabra inquieta y
una sombra de dolor.
Palabras de Angie.
　
(The poem I publish in Castilian because I do not want to lose the essence of the original, rather than the rhyme, so that they do not lose strength or altered the words of Angie)
Today apart from a hole in the soul is an inactive profile in our contacts every time a friend dies, Facebook should facilitate the possibility of leaving a digital will to each user with the option to maintain or disable the page.
　
An African poet congratulated Christmas with the tagline that there is nothing to celebrate, I fully agree with his opinion and much that we endeavor and as much as we want to disguise...There is really nothing to celebrate, rather we have plenty of reasons to cross our fingers and cry until we bleed our eyes.
It is not an impression, the time really flies on hells of fear, of doubt and of despair, rich, poor, just and wicked towards a same destiny, and what at first could appear in eternal form becomes before our astonished eyes in a tenth of Second.
The writing is aimed at users of FB, but for its content serves all social networks, and serves me to congratulate the New Year to all poets and poetess who shape the universe of poetry COSMOFUNNEL.
　
A hug and the new year is positive for everyone.
"Behind a computer there can be a robot, an undesirable person or a Troll, but also behind a screen there can be a human being who suffers, feels and between his messages tries to tell us things”
Memories of Web Website.
　
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