where the streets have no name

Art is the most incredible thing discovered by humans. It’s a form of expression which allows you to vent your thoughts and mirror society. It has a message, but it can be translated by your imagination to anything possible. It’s an abstract feeling waiting to escape your lungs. If you search deeply and open your heart (not just your eyes) the piece of art will whisper you its story.






PS. I know I’ve posted pictures of the streets of Lima before, but I still consider myself a tourist in my own country because it’s full of wonders waiting to be discovered. I simply can’t describe how lucky I am to live in Peru, a country lit up by art and mysterious messages in every corner. Knowing that people gift public walls with art just to make others happy and spread a message ( not for their benefit or selfish purposes) makes me grasp to the hope I have in humanity. 

switch on

I’ve decided to turn on the light. It’ll scare away everything trying to infiltrate my lungs, sanctioning my breathing. It’ll direct me through the mysterious fog that has formed between my eyelashes, and most importantly, my thoughts will be guided by my eyes, not by my terribly messed-up brain (which is not a very nice author). I don’t want to be an empty and dark hall, I don’t want to depend on a huntsmen to make all the ever-present demons in my heart skedaddle. I’m tired of trying to fix the past that can’t be undone and planning an unknown future, tired of not living for the moment. That is why I have decided to turn on the light. I will no longer be an individual that depends on someone to feel alive, but my lively eyes will shine through everyone’s soul, making them envisage that they too need to turn on the light. It’s time to smile.

switch on :)

PS: listen to sun and changing of the seasons by two door cinema club, they’re the best mood boosters

deliberated mechanism

You’re a free soul caged in a robotic body. Your actions are out of your control. The doubt you contain that something erroneous swims through your veins concludes that you know that a puzzle piece was lost designedly. You do as you’re told without asking why, even though your bones implore you to. Who programmed you? Your body must inhabit a labyrinth, but your physical features try challenging the world into believing you’re “perfection” itself. What does your soul want to divulge that your mind is trying to bury? You might not notice, but you’re your own enemy. Each one of your organs is working on it’s own, betraying your whole, trying to rip you apart to gain control…  Each one with an independent task to complete, which in the end will lead to





I am in the borderline of heaven and hell, in a somewhat perplexing limbo. My body calls my name but I am nowhere to be found, my soul keeps disappearing into an ocean of secrets too deep and mystical, it’s too dangerous for my bones to risk it.  Imagination floods my whole body, and it’s interlaced with lost memories, puzzling thoughts and hidden messages. Yet, something keeps on trying to keep me alive, analytical. Something interrupts my swirling ingenuity by pulling me back to reality.  Maybe it’s my subconcience warning me…  This is the moment in which my creativity is at its climax, cursed with a confusion too insane to comprehend. Adrenaline fills my veins, my dread is shifting towards hope…

I wrote this past midnight.. my eyes kept on closing but I had to grasp to the idea.. :p (i’m a bit too insane) make sure to listen to dreams by fleetwood mac 




the secret garden


There are some days that I want to dive into an ocean of dreams, drown in my hopes and dance as the swirling waves carry me away from this world. I sometimes covet freedom, and this brings me a sudden hunger, a longing to escape from reality and go somewhere secret, where I’ll be safe and sound, where all my neglecting thoughts and constant nightmares that chase me until I’m too tired to budge won’t find me. A place were I’m hidden and can allow freedom to resurrect my creativity…



I’ve been walking for a very long time, and I always seem to end just where I started. I’ve fallen into a web of confusion. I have no destination or idea of where I should go. All I know is that my feet won’t ever stop walking and my head won’t ever stop thinking. Due to my constant dreams my mind has blocked everything, turning my eyes into my only windows of communication.

I have opened a door and I now find myself surrounded by a lake where its waves have stopped dancing so that I can see my own reflection. I can notice my features, but they are a little blurry, distorted by the world’s definition of beauty. I’ve become the scarecrow, my brain is nothing but a labyrinth of unattended thoughts. My heart has turned into a void rock, because after all the obstacles that I have encountered in the way, all my reasonable judgement is now lost in the wind. I’ve become the tin woodman.

It’s as if all my feelings remained but they had lost its source. I’m just following my feet. Everyone is conscious of where they are going, except for me, I’m jut hopeless and disorientated. The unknown has been strangling me in fear, and now I’ve become the cowardly lion. I am nothing but a mixture of every creature’s disappointment, their dreams in a golden cage.

They told me to follow the yellow brick road, but where am I really trying to go?