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In the middle of nowhere Rose was born very weak ... just and could give life, they bear the icy winter winds. He was born in a place where the spring barely touch the ground. After a couple of winters, proud, caring for her little button, a beautiful ebony button.

spring arrives and finally blossomed, slowly opening its petals, black as the terrible darkness.

The rose was strange the heat of the sun's rays, was born in the icy depths of the night, his soul was a stormy, starless sky ...

Those who come to it feel the cold around your environment, your face is cold like oblivion, in the blackness of its petals lose many souls, their dark out moans and sobs.

In spring, the rose looks at the sky, then falls in love with a star and remains so beautifully pensive and sad until dusk, when the pain of his spirit shades and look at the top of clarity and calm .

Someone cut roses, white roses, red roses and far away, in the most arid, go to the black rose, goes to her, and turns around, cut the other roses ... "While there are roses ..." he thinks.

Go the distance to the black rose its thorns but not forgive, comes and goes and Fly the black rose as mobs of black pain butterflies.

Winter came and stripped the trees. Froze the winds that reached the black rose.

The icy wind carries their whispers, her voice seems weak to pronounce words of love do not come from his lips and laughs that brighten your soul. The cold wind hurts your black petals one by one they fall, mingling with the air of winter ... and yet another winter resistant.

The winter gives way to a new spring. Many have stopped at the darkness of their petals, waiting for a ray of light arise within them. They wanted to see it shining and lost in time.

After a long winter finally died, alone, without anyone to share her perfume, no one contemplated the nostalgic merry dark.

Nobody knew he had a heart that never questioned him ..

(do not know the author)

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was easy to forget between mirrors painted black. The face and not reflected, and thus it was impossible to tell the darkness of her hair in contrast to former glory. I wanted to mourn, but did not know why that was. Some echo of his head he shouted something she should know, should feel ... but did not feel. It did not matter how hard I tried reflected in the mirror to find the lost, because even though it sank, there was no way to reconnect with what once was and now he had disappeared. She had painted mirrors with a thick brush and a can of paint. I knew at that time that the giant might be tempted to try again when they had left behind, and so decided to avoid all memory eliminanto it with a layer of black paint. And it had been, because even focus their eyes in the mirror I could not see anything but the even lines left by the brush.

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.

Songs "?.

Yes, some grumbling from the sky

"Images?.

Poor mostly Thanks to Allah did not say anything beyond its pixels

Kisses "?.

was machinery. Lips, perhaps tongue, and saliva sweet.

Butterflies "?.

had hovered too far away and never return.

.

.

could

Because swallows return every spring, but she was gone. And his heart had gone with her.

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The seven streets ... Bilbo

Bilbao's name comes from BIL-VAO , which means fordable area, as was the area with less depth of the channel of Nervión river.

was founded in 1300 by D. Diego López de Haro V, in Valladolid. In 1317 María Díaz de Haro forced Orduña the road between Bilbao and Bermeo pass by, displacing Bermeo as the main port for the export of English wool.

In 1571 after several floods and a major fire, the walls were demolished to allow expansion of the city. In 1602 it became the capital of Vizcaya, a title he held until then Bermeo. In 1937 it was capital of the autonomous state of Euskadi ephemeral.

Seven bustling streets ...

Somera, Artecalle, would tend, Belosticalle, Old Butchery, Barrencalle, Barrencalle Auger and The Round is a cluster of seven streets that gave birth to Bilbao.

were walled and grew around the cathedral of Santiago, patron of the villa. The pilgrims who chose the sea route to arrive at Compostela, made a stop in the village. As a pilgrim again, the Virgen de Begoña also sought refuge in the shelter of the walls.

"In late 1836 - Manuel Basas account - the year of the siege of Bilbao by the Carlist, which endangered the sanctuary of the Mother of God of Begoña, which was half destroyed and that the image itself was in danger of being lost in the explosions of war, was lowered to the church of St. James, where he was, covered and beleaguered as the rest of Bilbao, until his release on Christmas Day, by Espartero.

remained installed in the family chapel Barrenechea, which then put a picture as a souvenir of this unforgettable stay in Santiago, which lasted until August 1, 1841, he returned to rise, procession, until the restored temple. "

Las Siete Calles

have written in your heart Bilbao half story. At number 10, Round Street, the September 29, 1864 came into the world Miguel de Unamuno. On the street Bidebarrieta born Admiral Mazarredo, the writer Luis de Castresana, when he wanted to be a painter, set up his studio in a garret Artecalle, and so many poets, writers and bohemians sought a place to dream among the old roofs of the village.

currently part of the Basque intellectual life has its corner meeting each other in this lifetime Bilbao. Txikiteros also have chosen this area as a sanctuary. Each two-door is a bar and delicious freshly cooked kebabs.

tradition is so crews every year txikiteros his feast is celebrated and paid tribute to the sweet joys ethylic the Virgin of Begoña. Pleasure with the holy water-water Bilbao call the champagne-the locals are a sacred rite.

In front of those seven blocks, between two bridges that link the town hall and the sandy ... I was born.

think one of my earliest memories is one of those evenings when it was sunny y. .. I sat down to play in the gazebo. The seven streets along with the river that separated us, is one of those memories that will remain engraved in the memories with ...

remember those walks in the sand by the river, with the bike and my cousins, shopping Santiaguito (marshmallow candy) ... I have few pictures of that area as we were growing up, and then ... with the crew of txikiteo and tops, celebrating the big week, San Blas, Easter ... The mud removed

whole crew in that flood of 83 between tears and laughter to all be together here by taking a hand where we could ...

These images of the seven streets of my botxito are for me one of the most beautiful parts of my life ...

I leave a video of a ride through the streets, with a good mix, the book fair, my bilbo, y. .. a good blues, who could ask for something better? only one .... be there!