Top

Run, flee, huye, escapa. Be authentic

(Scroll down for the English version)

ES/ CORRE, HUYE, ESCAPA

.

Por Nené Fontaíña

.

De la lista de la compra de los sábados. De limpiar la casa a medias. De ese nuevo reality como momento especial de la semana. De comprarle su champú favorito y devolverlo corriendo porque ese no es y parece mentira que no me conozcas. De las cenas sólo con parejas. Del centro comercial. De que te compre la ropa, y sobre todo la interior.

Corre con todas tus fuerzas, porque una vez te alcanza se acabó. Ya no hay más ojeras porque os despertasteis juguetones la madrugada de un martes cualquiera. Se acabó el correr desnudos por Saint-Tropez; es más, olvídate de Saint-Tropez por completo. Ahora toca complejo hotelero de los de pulsera y pies remojados en la piscina. O al pueblo con mamá y papá. Ya nunca más seréis vosotros, Brasil y una mochila. Ya no. Nunca más.

Huye porque es tu última oportunidad de ser auténtico. De ser real. De ser alguien que importe.

Escapa antes de desaparecer en las filas de la interminable lista de aquellos que hacen lo que se les manda. Lo que se supone que hay que hacer. Los pasos que inevitablemente hay que dar para ser un feliz e integrado miembro de la ciudad.

De verdad. Sálvate. No me digas que no te he avisado.

.

♥  Fotografía: Ghost, de Toby Keller. Visit his website.

altavoz  Tenemos una canción para este post: Wake me Up, de Avicii. Escúchala aquí:

 

.

EN/ RUN, FLEE, ESCAPE

.

By Nené Fontaíña

.

From Saturday’s shopping list. From cleaning the house,  half each one. From the most special time of the week, watching that new reality show. From buying his favorite shampoo and return it straight away because that is not the one he likes, and I can not believe that you don’t know me at all. Dinners with only couples. The mall. Is she who buys your clothes now, even the underwear.

Run with all your might, because once it catches you, it’s over. No more dark circles under your eyes because you woke up in a playful mood on a Tuesday night. It’s over, that nude run in Saint- Tropez; indeed, forget about Saint-Tropez completely. Now it’s a resort, all-included, feet splashing in the pool. Or maybe that bucolic, little village with mom and dad, they pay for the bills. You’ll never be yourselves anymore, Brazil and a backpack. It’s over. It’s a never more.

Flee, because it’s your last chance to be authentic. To be real. To be someone that really matters.

Escape before disappearing into the ranks of the long list of those who do what they’re told the have to do. What was supposed to be done. The steps that must inevitably be taken to be a happy and integrated member of the society.

Really, save yourself. Do not tell me I did not warn you .

.

♥ Photo: Ghost, by photographer Toby Keller. Visit his website.

altavoz  We also have a song that reminds us of this post: Wake me Up, de Avicii. Listen to it here:

Nené Fontaíña
No Comments

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.