| Allá, casi al final dejé mi corazón bajo un cuarzo, justo al lado de un frailejón. Le grité al viento en una de esas cumbres, que cuando muera, deje allí mi alma cerca de los caballos y del río por donde pegue el sol. Que algunos días me baje a la ciudad, cuando haya una risa que guardar, siempre siempre en forma de ave aunque no me puedan observar. | There, almost at the end, I left my heart under a quartz, right next to a frailejón. I shouted to the wind in one of those peaks, that when I die, it leave my soul there near the horses and the river where the sun hits. And some days the wind let me down to the city, when there is a laugh to keep, always always in the form of a bird although nobody can not see me. |
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| Es gracioso que desde donde los veo, se llame Las Letras, así como ahora desde estas letras. | It's funny, from where I see them, it's called Las Letras (The Letters), as well as now from this letters. |
Observing is an art, for me no place outside a room is common, because there is always something different to appreciate. What do I like about photography? Can save memories, yes. But especially what that memory (that is not our anymore) can convey, and can change the reality.
Hey @bloodymari!
My steemit friend @sorin.cristescu recommended Venezuelans to immigrate to Romania, because there apparently is an abundance of jobs and similarity in language, religion and well also culture to some extent, https://steemit.com/busy/@sorin.cristescu/immigrate-to-romania
What do you think?