Mark's long way to choosing Life

Now I've justified this to myself in all sorts of ways:
"It wasn't a big deal, just a minor betrayal" or "We'd outgrown each other", you know, that sort of things.
But let's face it, I ripped them off. My so-called mates.
But Begbie, I couldn't give a shit about him, and Sick Boy, well he'd have done the same to me if he'd only thought of it first. And Spud, well... Ok, I felt sorry about Spud. He never hurt anybody.

So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false.
The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's going to change.
I'm going to change.
This is the last of that sort of things.
Now I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already.
I'm going to be just like you: the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking ahead, to the day you die.

De la película Trainspotting (1996)
Escrita por John Hodge, basado en la novela de Irvine Welsch.

This stupid little life

I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die.
First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time.

For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars...
And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street...
Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper...

And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird...

And Janie...
And Janie...

And... Carolyn.

I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...

And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.

You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry...
You will someday.

De la película American Beauty. (1999)

Escrita por Alan Ball.

Chasing the ghost ship

All this time I've followed you
Every night, with shallow eyes.
All this time I've followed you
Every night, with hollow lies.
Hollow hearts
Hollow dreams, alone.

All this time.

Encontrarte

Encontrarte no es tan sólo conocer tus coordenadas,
la huella de tu angustia o las lunas que divisas.
Encontrarte es más que tropezar con tu prisa,
con tu eco en mi tintero y tus nostalgias remilgadas.

Encontrarte es un suceso que supera todo descubrimiento,
Que vence la fugacidad de los roces y las huidas,
Encontrarte conlleva más que afrontar el apaciguamiento
Alterar el vacío o suturar viejas y abiertas heridas.

Encontrarte es incluirme en tus causas y tus efectos,
sobrevivir a la explosión y a la muerte amaestrada.
Encontrarte es habitar cada átomo de tus aspectos,
Es navegar por el laberinto traicionero de tu mirada.

Encontrarte es recolectarte en todas tus manifestaciones,
En tu caricia, en tu desvelo, en el calor de tu aliento,
Los susurros que has dejado abandonados en el viento.
En todas tus constancias y en cada una de tus locas, estúpidas y fascinantes interrupciones.

El friso de la vida

La Tormenta

Claro de Luna

Noche Estrellada

Rose y Amelie

Vampiresa

Muerte en la Alcoba

Angustia

Cenizas

Madonna

Mujer en las tres etapas

Metabolismo

Golgotha

La Niña Enferma

La Voz

La Enredadera Roja

Melancolía

El Grito

"Caminaba yo con dos amigos por la carretera, entonces se puso el sol; de repente, el cielo se volvió rojo como la sangre. Me detuve, me apoyé en la valla, indeciblemente cansado. Lenguas de fuego y sangre se extendían sobre el fiordo negro azulado. Mis amigos siguieron caminando, mientras yo me quedaba atrás temblando de miedo, y sentí el grito enorme, infinito, de la naturaleza". 

-Edvard Munch. Pintor simbólico expresionista noruego.

El friso de la vida

Ciclo pictórico que contiene gran parte de las obras más importantes de Edvard Munch que pretende dar una visión unitaria de la existencia del hombre: el amor, el miedo, la muerte, el deseo, la angustia, las pasiones, la melancolía, la soledad, la angustia, el dolor, la deseperación, la tragedia y el aislamiento.