Am I the sleepy badly shaved guy that is already late to work?
The one looking at the mirror like a twin watching his agonising brother?
There's nobody else. It's not you and the cosmos. You won't feel your aura in communion with the universe and the stars as they'll no doubt try to sell you on cheap esoteric books.
Andromeda, Orion, Cassiopeia, Ganymede... just notes from wiser men watching through telescopes.
I am the weird little man touching up his hair, raising an eyebrow and winking at you in the club's loo.
Like those who claim to see a great bear in Ursa Major, eagles, crabs or swans in a bunch of dead stars. Joining the dots to that constellation might prove dangerous.
Like that girl rehearsing postures and chat up lines. Practising that cynical smile she got from the pages of a fashion magazine she bought earlier.
Because there is nothing that makes us all into one.
And in the end it will only be you and the sleepy guy staring back at you.
I'm a Velociraptor loading the last bullet into the barrel of his Colt 45.
I am the stupid pride of an Archaelogist searching a handful of bones, like a dog in heat.
I'm a Diplodocus jumping off the Empire State Building.
People die and get extinguished but places remain.
Like a Tyrannosaurus Rex standing on a chair tying the knot on the rope.
Those huge lizards lived much longer than us. They knew perfectly well what they were doing, what was coming.
Like a Triceratops bleeding in a bathtub.
And, even if you try to hit it with a rock, the earth will still spin.
After all, this is the place where I am, where I live, where I find myself in right here and right now,
and no damn asteroid can change that.
Los posters no van grapados a la libreta para que los puedas poner donde quieras. La goma permite sujetar todos los papeles o recortes que quieras guardar dentro de la libreta.
La colección se vende por unidad en nuestra tienda on-line. Y muy pronto podrás encontrarla a la venta en tiendas de Barcelona.