Para Olvidarte de Mí

Sometimes your rationality is so that it surprises you, it's even frightening. But this rationality breaks down when the melody of a song hits you; when the moments of a time recorded on the sensitive unit in the camera reaches you. You explore their every detail as if trying to conjure up the past, and in the process reliving it, because you know all too well that it simply won't come back. These images are beautiful because the beauty of a landscape resides in its melancholy.

And some images are recorded only on your mind. This lack of physical recording somehow makes you sad, you're afraid that you will forget them, or that they will blur and fade into the shadow of the memory, not to be retrieved again.

These moments seem at the same time so close and yet so far away. The feeling this double quality carries tells you that for the years to come you will think of them, then sorrow will show and you'll miss these moments so terribly that you will feel as if you're about to be drown, yet you can't call out for help, for you don't know how. You know that when you go back home you probably will never be here again, you probably will never see her again. The nostalghia will swarm you with a desire to come back to search for traces of the past.