Author Archives: Jesús Vilches

110 Akelarres

 

Vilches-Hatter

Back to the lion’s den …
Back to the stained areas, the walls filled with gray, ghosts under the cap.
Back in the storm of past memories. To once again become the monsters of the story.
To shut ourselves in.
To forget ourselves.

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La Sangre a nuestro Paso

 

Muere, Julio.

Muere, Agosto.

Ahí están vuestros hijos bastardos! Ahí están, miradlos bien.  Valen el alma de un loco.  Valen sus sueños. Valen su corazón en ruinas.

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Caged wolf

Jesús Vilches (Hatter)

Shit, shit, shit, shit!!!

The walls seem to fall down over me. Second week locked in. 3.30 in the morning. I desire to bite, to break things… I’m isolated. I just need a straitjacket to look like a mad. Bloody hell!! I would kill someone, I swear. I would kill for some oxygen.

 

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Unexpected

Jesús Vilches (Hatter)

We were full of unexpected moments, in this unexpected silence, replete of unexpected news and unexpected faces. In an unexpected way it happens that, from this unexpected corner arises an unexpected magic and suddenly everything runs underneath our feet. The present is cherised by unexpected futures and a legion of unexpected hands attend to this unexpected war to fight along with the madmen that in this unexpected Madrid, filled with unexpected moons and dreams to foresee, we yell at the naked desert, at the top of our lungs, in an unexpected language, full unexpected omens.

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The Crooked Road (2011 and Countdown)

Jesús Vilches (Hatter)

2011. 365 days wrapped up as a gift. 12 months to release. We are children with brand new shoes (or at least half new). We need them to walk down this crooked road.

Someone has taken this seriously. Our space gives us a new dress. New York shows itself transparent from its ashes and dust. It reminds us the end of the journey. Neon lights count the seconds of an Apocalypse that is about to arrive. Our Damokles sword will fall long before. However…

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Leave

Jesús Vilches

Damn holidays! Almost a crime when is said by someone who was born on December 24th… but damn holidays. Is being hard to cast anchor and again I’m forced to leave. It is assumed that is what decent people with a normal life and those things do at this time… nevertheless, I don’t know what means (Gray-Haired and Stains, too). I pack while looking back; a gesture I forced myself not to ever repeat. Luz stays. Again distance. I barely stand… but she did not even know, I’m afraid.

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