Synaesthesia Magazine #1 The Space

Synaesthesia

The Space

Issue #1 January 2016

SYNAESTHESIA MAGAZINE #1 THE SPACE

Synaesthesia Magazine #1 The Space Hipérbole Ediciones 2016 Edition by de Hipérbole Ediciones Team Cover illustration Unknown Author Printed in Santiago de Chile First Edition Contact: hiperboleediciones@gmail.com This magazine has been published under a Creative Commons License – Non Commercial- No Derivs – 3.0 unported.

We have adopted Creative Commons licensing beginning with our issue #1. We readily grant reprint permission for earlier copyrighted material, upon request.

Synaesthesia magazine #1 The space

Ă?ndex Editorial

04

The sun

05

illustration

13

the moon

15

sputnik

17

Authors

20

Recomendations

22

Contact

23

N°1: the space Editorial______________________________________________ The space. The place where everybody is born, grows and dies. That distant concept full of queries and theories where every day a new sun is born in a faraway galaxy. Newton defined space as the cosmic setting where the elements of the universe interacted. Precisely, over this setting which sustains our existence is where this magazine begins.

In the very first issue of Synaesthesia Magazine we wanted to go to the origin of everything we know and do not know, we wanted to undertake the never easy journey of rediscovering everything that surrounds us. That is why we invite you to step up on your two legs, stop looking upfront and set your sight in the outer space whose brightness lights our inner self. In this first issue, we will see different approaches to the world of space; young authors will combine time and space to let us know their perceptions about the tissue that covers us.

We will be witness of how through poetry, tales and illustrations we can portrait different notions we have about this concept. With lot of hope and simplicity we introduce you to our first issue of Synaesthesia Magazine. We hope this is the beginning of a constant cycle of action and production of literature. To reconceptualise our reality!

HipĂŠrbole Ediciones Team https://www.facebook.com/HiperboleEdiciones http://hiperboleediciones.blogspot.cl 04/The Space

Beredice

Yellow Eyes Close to you I discover the strength that looks for the angel’s shape that it looks to sleep in the tenuous things of an unknown sexuality of a walk that softens mornings Dreams of dead flesh trip to the centre of your terrestrial heart cold as an academy gate at the bottom with the plastic glass the nausea, the hand in the pocket A man who walks on the seashore of a sparkling fire still away from me you slip next to an invisible woman who doesn’t even know she is real As you walk by you rough out a smile, sometimes you remain still another times you looked in the streets and in the lonely dream some eyes look for you in the silence I saw you walking by like a skimming light like a ship of son displayed in the distance.

But now time is still and you become a hurricane between the golden leaves of time and you go scatter yourself.

06/The Space

Maximiliano Bolados

To the Moon How many promises, sealed with a sickly kiss of lunatic lovers, would have been made after the name of the Moon?

The night’s silence tempting to seal pacts, the semidarkness landscape call us to leave the Earth to reach the sky and, looking at its stars dancing warmly with the Moon, offering this wandering white lady with man’s nonsenses who knows himself owner of nothing.

Joaquín Eguren

Tatiana Cárcamo

Milky Cycle

Teletubbies’ park

Blue sky uncertain forecast down there roads cars’ cement road’ bicycles

Every evening after work I go through a universe of teen couples burning like the sun lighting more than a full moon sparkler than stars.

scent of green grass taste of Sunday afternoon rub legs bumpy texture Wind against helmet kisses and cigarettes on the grass working bees next to the melted plastic.

Salt on the face heart at its maximum H2O down recovered balance.

07/ Synaesthesia Magazine

Gustavo Jara

Divine Meeting in Av. Portales It was two o’clock in the morning.

I couldn’t sleep So I went out to jog in Portales’ park.

I bumped in with Jesus Christ, Dressing with a loose lightweight shirt and no shoes, laying on a broken bench pissed by hundred of street dogs.

He called me and started to tell me his story about Mary Magdalene: that she caught him selling electrical appliances of their house that she had throw him out for being useless, lazy and a thief..

He was swotting to cry over a glass of alcohol and find an answer to his divine cocktail of freebase, cigarettes and beer.

08/The Space

Maximiliano Bolados

Free Fall

At the edge of the Cliff Gravity imposes Do you jump? the wind hitting the face, deadly vertigo as a memory of a life wandering in the Earth arrogant life about to subjugate to the natural rigor.

From the core as a bedrock who gave your life strength is imposed that will deadly hurt you.

You were dust and in dust you will become, with a bit of luck, maybe you will fall in the sea, or rise up as a stardust.

Joaquín Eguren

Geometry

To look up to open the eyes and study the maths of the sky feel the past live the present open the senses to the universe’s photon look for the reflection of atoms that make up our bodies we are a replica the imperfect replica of the entire universe tiny to huge interior to exterior both functional every of them fundamental see the lights of dying stars and make the math final result: we are all star dust.

Tatiana Cárcamo

Inside

I am looking at the sky and I see transparent circles.

I am closing my eyes and the sun hits me in my eyelids I am touching my eyelids and the stars explode, colours are combined.

To the speed of light, thoughts travel like asteroids in space they crash as blood cells.

It is 18:00 o’clock in my mind the sun goes down.

09/Synaesthesia Magazine

Maximiliano Bolados

In White

It is a crime to destroy your peace, if with my stiff hand I sketch shy and cold lines which don’t turn on your virgin and desert skin.

So then I’d kill you, once your white silence had been broken and me not being honourable to take it from you with an echoing shot.

How sweet if the warm strokes, what a pleasure if words fill you with sweet rhythm!

Then your death is clean, and it would have not been in vain to damage you white space with this ink as a bloodstain.

10/The Space

Gustavo Jara

Zapata’s camp We walked through the only path a blood vessel of forest and plain aorta of rivers and streamsWe walked as the gauchos did in the times of factories and inns, until we reached the top: an abandoned camp which offered to our feet jaw bones vertebras horns and more horns.

The shortest night with cold temperatures whispering hymns based on birdy roaring and ballad.

Joaquín Eguren

Maximiliano Bolados

String Theory

Long Distance

The only reason why I believe in the string theory, it’s because mathematically in one of those seven dimensions there is still a version of myself who is happy with her.

So far the Moon shines But yet it has been reached, the colossal Andes imposes and its top has been named a thousand times, thousands of constellations are known, thousands of planters and the full biography of stars.

Joaquín Eguren

Repetition We repeat routines that balance life repetition is called living it is conjugated with the verb “die”.

Pour up some coffee support your king energy restrained in metal it will blow up your interior only to support the global corporation.

Though distances have been reached And many roads open, We haven’t fixed the route between its eyes and mine, the mysterious distance between my fingers and your hair not even a song to fill the space of our last silence.

11/Synaesthesia Magazine

Gustavo Jara

Joaquín Eguren

Walking by the River Path

Aware

From the iconic river of the city I found a path down to the seashore where the shit sunbathes and the pigeons dance with the feast.

I branded my sole’s trainer on the sand, kicking cigarette butts, bloodstained condoms and small pieces of paper which wrap up white powder.

I am aware that I live in the Earth I inhabit the universe I am aware that children, women and men die and I die with them I am aware that rivers, oceans and seas are drying up and I dry up with them I have this tiny machine which name is “reason” which says it knows more than my heart which says I’m superior which gives me the human right above everything though my rabbit, cat and dog, uncivilised faces of this word would consider my behaviour inhuman, knowing that everything I know and contemplate is useless to change the big conscience of the great being, the anti – harmonic conscience that sees the world falling apart.

The nighty brothel had all facilities to have a proper service.

It even had pools of water so the client can wash his face, get awake and go out to beg for some coins and be back the next night.

12/The Space

Gustavo Jara

The four cops Here at Torres del Paine the friendliest are the cops four friendly chaps who rotate day after day their twelve hour a day shift.

They tell me that his sergeant is a cunt who sees himself as a gunman who swears that we are in an American movie where cops are heroes.

The chaps were cross they say what the fuck if we are in a national park where nothing happens.

12/Synaesthesia Magazine

‘El espacio’ por Lusana Ávila https://www.flickr.com/photos/lusanirijilla/, Licencia en http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Berenice

Hours of words I decided to go out. I spent much time handling myself to be invisible; instead of looking at the few objects I left behind I just closed my eyes. Or maybe they were opened and I saw, but without distinguishing. I walked fast through the corridor. And there it was, I could feel my heart beating, the beatings of thousands eyes like never ending blows. The wise one on one side, philosopher on the other side, witticism was the word, the perfect word, perfect; to practise the rusty art of the memory with its cigarettes and fake smiles. The fug pleased by those voices, full of infinite knowledge. Grab strongly to the idea, I was told, but it was not possible. I just offered my shadow. Then I opened that door that just I could see; I started to run as long as happiness and misfortune began to move. Because you must go. You have always been drawing yourself in a glass of water. I stopped when my eyes were tired in the place where I belong to; I had to choose between getting desperate and died or enjoyed of such quietness and that landscape of mine. I am still alive.

Synaesthesia Magazine/16

Juan Pablo Labarca

The Never Told Story of Nothing The future is space, ground colour space, cloud colour, water colour, of air, black space for many dreams, white space for all the snow, for all the music.

Pablo Neruda History has taken great care telling what never happened about an inaccurate past that defines an interrupted future. Keeping space, distance and movement, among each other, have made of this world and other planets the results of scientific chaos, carefully measure, with bang and waiting crunch, expansion and isolation, disorder in the logic scientific order that makes us manipulate what is superior and label the unknown in order to feel a little bit bigger than what we really are. Nevertheless, it wasn’t always like that.

Past history. Even older than what you are thinking. A Little bit more.

Greece? Maybe that is the moment of the celestial revelation about everything. There it was, when the sacred lie about how miracle became from words, breaking the rules of the scientific order and logic, it created: Before everything, nothing and inside that nothingness, the word. The word living in three, defining together and by themselves the ‘nothingness’: control, action and rest.

Control, slowly but surely, decided to create other words that made his job when he was absent. He wanted to last, stay, register, watch. He became God, and named himself Kronos, stopped the impulse, limited freedom, limited limits, and chained the living things to time.

Synaesthesia Magazine/18

What didn’t Action do? he collided with this new time and discovered the limits, discovered that one can run out of high spirits, and for the first time he discovered that there was rest. Action wanted to give quality to time in order to improve it. He named himself Helium.

Rest was overwhelmed with this chaos, she stood up, looked and felt. She felt in her guts this not-being feeling, the absence, she was incomplete. She felt miserable about neither not-being Action nor Time, about being herself and nothing else. She fell down. Rest thought and from thinking, it was born the reason that put her on her feet again. She called Kronos and calm down Helium: she organised time, and valued her job. Because of the light that gave her reason, she named herself Selene.

Kronos, Helium and Selene, loved in loneliness, and from that lonely love, the only daughter of this celestial trip thong was born: Gaia.

In this sacred lie, inaccurate, which is poetic truth, it is understood what we are and where we come from: words. Words that defined themselves in nothingness, being themselves nothing. Words that limited freedom to the creation of other words. The space is nothing more than the piece of paper where the future we live is written, it only takes to merge all the stars to see who is the next illustrated god that will teach us to live.

The Space/19

Authors Maximiliano Bolados San Antonio, Chile Sea Man | Poet | Lost mbolados@renare.uchile.cl

Berenice Santiago, Chile Crazy | Cortázar’s lover | Teacher |Surrealism | ‘D love to write Katy.villalon5@gmail.com

Joaquín Eguren Ciudad Capital, Chile Languages| Football | Nostalgia | Walker | Builder | Astronaut joakoeguren@gmail.com

Tatiana Cárcamo Santiago, Chile Tight dancing | Experimenting | Learning t.carcamo.r@gmail.com

Synesthesia Magazine/20

Authors Juan Pablo Labarca Estaciﾃｳn Central, Chile Word | A bit | Person jplabarca@gmail.com

Gustavo Jara Santiago, Chile Agronomy Student | Poet gjara@uc.cl

Lusana ﾃ」ila Santiago, Chile Drawing | Painting | Dreaming lusana.avila@gmail.com

The Space/21

RECOMmENDAtIONS Once you have completely digested this magazine, it is advisable for readers to do the following action to extend the reading of the space: 1. Go to the courtyard and look at the stars.

2. Watch the film Solaris (1972) from the soviet director Andrei Tarkovsky.

3. Listen to the full soundtrack of Oblivion film (2013) and Sunshine (2007).

4. Close your eyes and enjoy the silence.

Synaesthesia Magazine/22

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Looking forward to it!

The Space/23

“Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilizations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed" Solaris 1972.

The space – Synaesthesia Magazibe

by Hipérbole Ediciones Finished printing in January, 2016 in Hipérbole Ediciones workshops www.hiperboleediciones.blogspot.cl

Initial print – run of 40 copies all rigorously foliated by its author the editor team

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