We are on the golden path
We will provoke our own initiation
We will transform our own destination
We will become our own light

We will not hesitate at any crossroad
We will choose the new over the known

We will chase spirits like butterflies,
We will capture the fire
We will release any resistance
We will not run from fear

PALMTREE= SYMBOL OF FREEDOM

We will raise our hands, write new prophecies,
Write our own personal legends
Transform reality,
We will leave behind , on the road, seeds of existence,,,
Chaos, romance, lines of colors,
Freedom whispers, freedom screams,

We will go with no past
We will go without memories
With no future
We will travel in between realities
To set the foundations of a new reality

THE SECRET SILK SOCIETY:
We will create a template, a game board, a tree of life,
A free structure, a delicate schema for another level of existence
Today:
The road is becoming a snake of light, she is offering to us pure beauty.

We are crossing the first gate: mountains sharp like the wings of a bird: a desert of josua trees.
Abandoned road side restaurant. I paint a wall while Fernando is filming the distance between two trees. Already, my mind is setting free. I am loosing all references. I will paint a catalogue of spirits.

Eroticism is a free universal tool.
It is amazing how every orgasm is different from the one before. If you really pay attention to every detail, every orgasm is a step beyond to a higher level of consciousness.
Every orgasm is a strong energy provider: the birth of a new journey , the birth of a new desire. The orgasm is the scream of life. It is the antidote against death’s velocity and geometric reality.

1-asymetric love
Making love should not satisfy us, not make us asleep. Making love should provoke us, awake us, make us want to discover more, new fields, new desires, traveling on deeper levels. Making love should open gates, alter our reality, transform our vision: reset our trip.

Asymetric lovers in the hand of the universe:
With my fingers, I will paint secret caverns, sacred animals, invisible dream catchers, burning flags: my hands will be the kites to carry you into the universe.
My hands in the desert will become your wings.
My brushes in the desert will become snakes of light,
Guided by your visions
Your desires will become my fuel: your fears will become my gateways,
your whispers:  the song of the coyotes.
We will go without guide,
TRAIN= GHOST SNAKE OF JACK KEROUAC

Spirituality is our daily exchange with the universe. Reality is the distance between two visions.
The spirits of the desert are taking us slowly
Dust covers our skin.
Dust covers our soul
Dust covers our memory
I see a ghost whirling around, like a beautiful predator, like a ballerina from paris, like a bohemian hero, time traveler,
I stare at the ghost dancing over my bed, like a bird of prey, like a nympho on pills, like a lost albatross over a dry ocean: freedom soldiers, whispers from the ancestors, sacrifices.
Will I ever see again?

My bed haves wings and travel into the desert. Since death is chasing me, I am not afraid anymore of darkness: I drink the potion. I create my own light. I burn myself: I reveal myself to the other side, naked and offered.
Echoes from dead huichols, dead territories, dead spirits,
Dead lovers, a crow in agony: death lost it’s hero.
Empty goldmines
We sleep at the gates of the desert: la frontera de la conciencia

Real del catorce ( estacion catorce):
I am unfolding a canvas in the desert to paint. My brushes are curious, excited: In a quest to find the gate, cross the bridge.

+il y a tellement de visions qui se bousculent a la porte de mon esprit. Un feu sacré, l’envie de fuir, la peur de mourir, le désir de l’ultime vertige, la puissance de l’appel, la fragilité des sages: ma résistance, disparaitre dans le grand cycle, s’ouvrir pour recevoir.+

A dangerous crossroad made of white feathers, and volcano rocks. Delicate, long, a new state. No one can see the road is on fire: I am burning from the inside.
Violating, emerging, loosing my skin: the cobra is visiting me.
She told us: --bees killed my husband at a wedding.

Fernando said; -it will bring clarity in your art.

We dive with rocinante, the van, into the desert. We hunt for peyote, the sacred medicine. Hunting for mescalito, tracing a giant white circle: a prayer to silence
The deer skeletons are dancing: I am getting ready, slowly.
I cover my body with feathers: I am becoming a bird.

Time stops between two trains( Quetzalcoatl conciencia)

+morir es alzar el vuelo sin alas, sin ojos, sin cuerpo+ panteon municipal de catorce
( to die is to sail the wind without wings, without eyes,without body+

( soundtrack; finding it so hard by archive)

a book of marble: a painting day at the cemetery.
We arrived middle day: alone into the cemetery: a dry  field of spirits and crosses, artificial flowers, total desolation.
Like the aghoris in India, the sage wild men who perform rituals sitting on a dead body( called saddhana), I unfold my canvas in between two graves, in full sun.
I unfold my canvas to one  of the most intense and beautiful day of creation of my existence.
Fernando and I vanished into a deep trance: deep, melodic, solitary, unified.
I painted in black and white the dance of the skeletons: the architecture from the other side: the frontier of consciousness.
Dead people came back to the surface, dancing spirits, a few moments of freedom: a choreography of bones and brushes, dancing in the dust, in fury.
My brushes are becoming flames to set the world on fire: to light up the universe, to transmit passion, total devotion.
After sunset, we ride with rocinante to the restaurant of dona margarita, smiling woman older than the desert, and I paint the outside wall while we eat and drink ron, in total levitation. The energy is high : I cover the whole wall  with swans, skeletons, freedom warriors, lovers, whispers for a new civilization: a new flower into the dry dead desert.
After dinner, we lock ourselves with music into our turquoise room. Fernando dances a cosmic salsa, screaming. While I paint with sensual thin black lines cobras making love to bulls, perfect lines: my hand is dancing freely, like a butterfly into the wind.
I jump form bed to bed to cover the whole room: underwater love, fireworks on the floor, we are invoking our own liberation, provoking our own fears:
A very chaotic ceremony: beautiful and limitless, sailors without ships, magic carpet riders.
Asleep, I make love to a skeleton, laughing Tibetan dancer,

A morning in the desert:
I woke up with the sunrise: fragility in my eyes, fragility in my hands, delicate fear in my spirit: I went to walk alone at the gates of the desert, wrapped in my red blanket. I played with the rays of light with my fingers like if they we’re silk strings. I can feel  the light traveling inside me, filling every hole, filling every space. I am becoming transparent, a white swan.
Tacubaya tells me: you shall hunt for good and evil.
She says: you shall duplicate the light.
She says: you shall amplify your visions, talk to the reptiles, capture the lizard king, you shall paint the bridge of gold, you shall paint us making love: our traces on the sand, our fossils of light.
She tells me so many things that my eyes are burning. The desert is calling us: taking the road to the center of ourselves.
I lay on the sand, making love, to her, to the desert.

Fernando said: stare at the clouds, it will be the first manifestation.
But this morning, the sky is pure blue, international klein blue, patented, so we will seek for the spirits in other natural geometry. I create new numbers: new alphabets, I create new memories from another past.
I will create another past to transform the future.
I will exist in between the lines
I will exist in a brushstroke
I will exist in a secret corner of your soul
I will exist in between two of your dreams.
I will exist to transcend your visions
I will exist to amplify your reality
I will exist to erase futility
I will exist to build bridges
I will exist to transmit passion:

I will remain in movement, conscious of my road. I will vanish into the universal pattern.
I will touch ivory, graceful war, purify my lines,
I will dance into the fountain of immortality, I will charm death, offer to you a new system, new colors, a new iconography to experience freedom, to build your own temple, to raise your fists to the sky, to be your own revolution.
I will hunt for a new geometry: the anatomy of the invisible
I will create a volcano where we can dive and burn, rise, love, resurrect our ancient bodies
I will set the foundations for a new revolution, a new level of consciousness
I will create a field to navigate outside reality, I will create the antidote, the passage to wisdom, a new eroticism, a new joyful explosion, a  tactile journey to the other side, an invisible land with trees made of flesh and light, a path of freedom, a deep revolution, a gateway for seekers, lovers, a free run, a scream of life, a chaotic dance, I will provoke your comfort, send you messenger birds, invoke a new rotation system, I will build a carousel in spiral where you can disappear, outside yourself, where you can become everything you want, for seven seconds, for seven lives.
I will set the world on fire.

We hunted all day for mescalito. As close as we came to him, we never found him, but we traveled deep into the desert, into ourselves. We danced with a giant owl at sunset, beautiful pale dust. We lost ourselves on the silk roads. Tomorrow we will come back: to travel deeper, higher, faster . The destination is becoming useless. The distance between two points becomes our promise land.
We will learn from unknown voices delicate tools of decadence, romantic levitation.
In silence, I lay on my bed, surrounded by candles and I let the spirits penetrate me, without protection.

Day two: clouds create soft patterns into the sky. I feel I am traveling further from reality everyday. As dust covers my skin, I unveil my soul.
I reach the spiral time. ascending seconds, all my desires are just becoming one. Words are fading away. I think without words, directly with images, colors, shades, I reach the golden cap.
Today, we will cut the desert in two with a knife: provoking a river of light, and we will dive, seeking for the ocean.

+++