The Patient. Chapter II.
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"I am a bird trapped in an ocean of salt, lost among dunes salty weary flight, but I never complain when the land is gone"
The Patient. Presentation.
The patient Peter loves his sister above all things, without it the world since that fateful day in 1988 would have been grey, dark and cold, her presence was always decisive and without the unconditional support of the woman, her life would be very different.
She remains silent while one small piece draws, she is responsible for providing the materials needed for each composition, graphite and colour, pencils, pens, brushes, paper appropriate for each performance and small boats of ink for the composition of poems by Peter.
* Black Reward *
The sunlight breezes down
Upon my exposed epidermis
Like a warming shower
I began the marathon journey
To the corner shop
Puffing and wheezing all the way
Steamtrain like
Returning now with my diet coke
My back is a broken rusty spring
Arriving back with renewed zeal
I crack the seal
And deliciously consume my black reward.
Peter Kill.
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* Negra Recompensa *
La Brisa de la luz solar
sobre mi epidermis expuesta
con una ducha de calentamiento
comencé el recorrido de la maratón
a la tienda de la esquina
soplando y sibilando en el
tren de vapor para
regresar ahora con mi Coca-Cola
con mi oxidada espalda rota
y con un renovado celo.
Romper el sello y disfrutar
deliciosamente de mi negra recompensa.
Peter Kill.
When Peter knows that she is close to feel safe, his sister emanates a halo that repels monsters and ghosts who visit his bed and that night not let him rest, with her next to him the most complicated ends transforming into a small setback.
But despite all the delivery and even though so much love between the brothers sometimes arises the feeling of tension, the reasons are always the same, the disregard of Peter for money, they are not vain ambitions, simply is a vital necessity, but the woman is overwhelmed by the invoices and all these situations related to money. He waited for that Peter finished the composition, then as his brother signed it, gently it explained its intentions before the next exhibition.
-I have talked to the New York gallery owner and affects that I've been telling you for decades, whether small or large format have to increase the prices of all the works. I said you your interest that the art is affordable for all budgets and he answered me that already are the museums and that she is not in this business for the love of art, doing it for money.
Peter a SIP of water and after a few seconds, ask your sister.
-What do you think?
Women as if already wait for that question quickly responds to Peter.
-I think that Doris is quite right, with those prices that your usually put is could paper with your drawings One World Trade Center in New York since the last slab of the terrace to the ground in the bowels of the city, I think you can do two sets, one for the gallery and other more affordable for distribution in newsagents as surrealist postcards , and for those others who do not have resources always will be them the comfort of print any of your pictures published on the Web.
Peter sighed with resignation and said his sister with the same response in relation to the price of his work.
- But you know that I do not draw money, drawing is as necessary as the air I breathe.
His sister before the evidence also respond you always in the same way, but on this occasion he said differently.
-Do perhaps Pablo Picasso painted for money? Money Salvador Dalí painted the last thing I would like is that you'll end up like him, but balance is at the point, I would like to be able to see your success in life, not like Vincent Van-Gogh, died in misery and crazed in a mental institution, money does not give happiness, that is true, the really important things are not bought with money , but with money food and bills are paid, money my dear brother depends to health, we need money and know it, and that exposure in Manhattan seems a hope of salvation for all our problems.
Reviewed me Doris who wants you to work a large format of the dimensions of the Guernica, in black and white or in color, gives you the same thing, but you want to the same provision of the figures in the painting of Picasso, a great work consisting of faces of people and animals surrounded by symbols and objects that recall the horror of bombs Doris thinks that with your temper would be how to recover the work of Pablo Picasso to its rightful place and where he never had to leave, the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
Peter with a smile confirmed his sister that he liked the idea of Doris, apart from beautiful and intelligent New York seemed that it also had wit, Peter caught the writing that had just signed and while he caressed gently warm hand of her beloved sister recited the words written by way of verses.
* Trauma Seven *
Monsters,
Ghosts,
Strange hands and
Eyes closed.
Whispers,
Trauma,
Silence, nonsense and,
Tied arms.
In the garden of dates,
1988 is a nightmare,
It is a spot of blood,
A thread between death and life.
Dates than as arrows,
In the mind glow,
You tear the flesh,
A cry to the horror of the fall.
Drawings,
Figures,
naked bodies, and
Minds and masks.
Monsters,
Ghosts,
Sealed lips and
Strange faces.
Lucas Lazar. Telling Stories.
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* Trauma Siete *
Monstruos,
fantasmas,
manos extrañas y
ojos cerrados.
Susurros,
traumas,
silencio, patrañas y,
brazos atados
En el jardín de las fechas,
1988 es una pesadilla,
es una mancha de sangre,
un hilo entre la muerte y la vida.
Fechas que como flechas,
en la mente brillan,
que desgarran la carne,
un grito al horror de la caída.
Dibujos,
figuras,
torsos desnudos y,
mentes y máscaras.
Monstruos,
fantasmas,
labios sellados y
caras extrañas.
Lucas Lazar. Contando Historias.
And while the evening was becoming night at Gardens City the two brothers were handed over to prayer dedicated to the four Angels watch the four watchtowers of the universe, for them it was the magic hour, then joined hands and gave thanks to God for all the good, and although the horror was always present, thanks to that twilight light always left it behind.
It will continue to...
"Friend of mine that you are in heaven, I have not forgotten your name or I think you forget that ever keep me present in your sky as I ti I have in my personal hell, and help me to accept humbly all those horrors that dispense me the destination"
The Worlds of Peter. Prayer.
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Comments
We're going for parties: first I do not have the grace of clairvoyance, and secondly, I'm writing a story of fiction, not a biography. The patient is just an excuse to write of surrealist art and poetry where the drawings are the protagonists, an intimate story with a moral end.
You commented in private that was a surreal story not a psychological portrait of the author.
A greeting, and feel you've annoyed.
As not I have been able to answer by private I do open. Yes I think you could compose large formats regardless of the price, and about what you say of the time, whenever Exchange a letter with you what I am doing, and without charge no fee. But don't worry that I will change the name to the character.
The Web is full of false and strange behavior, but should always give an opportunity to trust me invading computers of users? (LOL) On the contrary, makes time invaded my computer and had to endure a pack of rabid rats to insulting me in all forums of Spanish-speaking, so that I now navigate Web pages written in English, Anglo-Saxon security forums seem to me to be much more effective.
It hurt me to look bad with you because apart from the fact that I like what you do within the surreal world, I look like a nice person, I am not neither good nor bad, but when public or answer some user do heart and try to always tell the truth, the fantasy roll it in the novels, and that is the patient Peter Parker , fantasy mixed with reality as an excuse to surrealist art.
Guernica was in reality a dream, a work of this size with your drawings would not have anything to envy to the pacifist creation of Pablo Picasso, has nothing to do with delusions of grandeur, is a no-brainer, my brain is so creative that you composed things even when he is dreaming.
I have written your art on FB, I think I am qualified to do so, and while did you advertised between my aggregates application, but your personal life just be what your I've counted, little things that I have been introducing the tale to reality it.
When we publish on the Web we have to accept that we cannot control the emotions of those who are watching us and while there is intimidation, harassment, insults or harassment have to assume the opinions and follies of those who for one reason or another we follow.
Greetings, I love that we have left behind our anger, ultimately both are creators that we can transmit us things through friendship.
A greeting.