Isabel Sants
"It’s easier to tell people who you want to be instead of admitting to them the things you aren’t."
— Isabel Sants
Posted 1 week ago with 3 notes
Strong Realization

Life is short.

There are people who have accumulated more money than most people have seconds in a lifetime. 

Posted 2 weeks ago with 0 notes
Photo by: Isabel Sants”I love your smile”

Photo by: Isabel Sants

I love your smile”

Tags: #photography #graffiti #beach #buenos aires peru #peru #trujillo
Posted 2 weeks ago with 4 notes
Photo by: Isabel SantsBeautiful sunset at the Buenos Aires beach in Trujillo, Peru

Photo by: Isabel Sants

Beautiful sunset at the Buenos Aires beach in Trujillo, Peru

Tags: #sunset #trujillo #peru #photography
Posted 2 weeks ago with 7 notes
"All a poet can do is warn."
— Wilfred Owen (via writingquotes)

(via kdecember)

"Everyone has talent. What’s rare is the courage to follow it to the dark places where it leads."
Erica Jong (via thatlitsite)
Posted 3 weeks ago with 13 notes

Sometimes I wonder
if there is a place in you
where I do not live.

I should be grateful
that you choose me
to fill the space within,

But I’ve filled my own spaces
with too much of myself
to have you live so full in me as well.

Sometimes I wonder
if you can see it, that I’m
soar from the guilt of not
drowning in you, too.

— Isabel Sants
Posted 3 weeks ago with 6 notes
"I won’t read your mind. I won’t unclog the words trapped in your throat. You can corner me with silence, the most violent of messages, and I will only walk away. If you want an apology, if I’ve ever hurt you, you need to tell me if you want me to stay."
— Isabel Sants; unspoken words
Posted 3 weeks ago with 4 notes
A few things I learned when discussing controversial issues

1. Don’t waste time finger-pointing. Especially when you’re talking about a controversy regarding two separate regions,its risky. At the end of the day, both sides will have their horror stories. Some students did this, some group did that. None of those things matter. What matters are the facts, the laws, violations of human rights, everything else is a distraction.

2. Never lose your temper. Just like when you were bullied as a kid (if you were) you learned after a while ignoring it actually made them stop (sometimes). When it comes to debating something controversial, it’s similar. People are attached to their ideas like they’re limbs, and if they let you prove them wrong they fear they will be limping through the rest of their lives. So like any good doctor, amputate carefully, use a good anesthetic (preferably an even tone and a calmness the saints could envy).

3. Brace yourself for the sarcasm. It’s coming, and it’s coming quick. On the bright side, this is how you know you’ve won your argument. Sarcasm turns the handle that opens the door to a slippery slope. They are about to take a long ride down a painful slide of panic. Give them a hand, use your acrobatic mental skills to reach into their point of view and walk them back to solid ground where they can look at you and see an equal who won’t judge them, an individual who just wants to speak to another individual. 

4. Never forget they are human. Fact is, people say the darndest things (ok, so thats an understatement… people say some crazy stuff). Point is, it’s hard to speak to someone who insists on belittling your theories or dehumanizing a minority involved in the said controversial topic your discussing. Yes, they’re dehumanization of others can sometimes make you lose your basic level of sympathy (that ground zero of tolerance reserved for human beings simply because they are human beings). These people are terrified of what you’re saying, so try and say it differently. At the end of the day, thats what communication is about, understand how different we are, finding ways to build bridges of understanding with people have lived the world differently from ourselves, and so don’t always know how to get from where they are to where you are.

5. Don’t assume you’re right. This is a big world, in an ever expanding universe, with more mystery than answers. You may have the documents, you may have the stats, you may have the very word of G-d who whispered it to you while you were sleeping at night. At the end of the day, we all have the ability to be wrong. So be humble. Listen more than you speak. And whatever you do, don’t become that which you abhor. 

Posted 3 weeks ago with 4 notes
"Will you forgive me my misspelled words
if they are all I have to give you?"
— Isabel Sants
Posted 3 weeks ago with 2 notes
A Better Drug than Love

People call love a drug,
a dreadful addictive cocktail of promises,
kisses, sweaty palms grabbing onto hot backs
in an ecstasy that can’t be recreated,
can’t be packed in a healthy dose.

You must have it all, inhale deep.
Love isn’t love unless your eyes 
are rolling back from the madness,
your heart is having spasms of fear
and excitement, or  your throat is clogged 
with so much poetry you can’t breathe.

But I’ve found a drug more satisfying,
more forgiving, less painful.

I’ve searched the jungles in my veins
for something uniquely produced by 
only the immutable combination of the
fragments of my mind, my heart strings, 
and my soul’s deepest desires. 

Within that swampy area, overworked by
the heavy flow of blood that travels directly
from my brain to that unrelenting muscle in
my chest, I found a lazy trunk of thoughts
that I couldn’t believe had been accumulating
since I was only a child.

I found the words I was to fearful to speak
to a self-conscious lover, who wanted me
smart, but silent. 

I found the art I threw away because I was fearful
of the way my peers would react to drawing 
something so dark on such a bright day.

I found the desire I had let subside,
because my parents had wanted me safe
without the walls of their lives. 

I found the joy I had to sacrifice,
because I was told there were opportunities 
I shouldn’t strive for. 

I found so much more than I bargained for.
I found a life more complex and more profound
than I could have gotten off the high of romantic love. 

Posted 3 weeks ago with 3 notes
I’ll Never Forget the Flames

He is always warm. I remember him warm. 

Sometimes, in the madding equatorial heat, I close my eyes and pretend it’s his breath enveloping me and not the sun trying to wither my sense of purpose. Because I have a purpose, and I know the heat want’s to keep me from it. 

The smell of rotting chickens combines with the tar-like scent of the cities pollution and I’m awake. He isn’t here. This isn’t his heat. He always smelled like the desert, not like the chaos of this city, which resembles more the desperate smell of development and not the peace of silence that he sweats after a long day working.

Yes, I miss him. I miss him the way you miss clean air after you’ve been chocking on smog for three months. I miss the way he showed me how he thought I was beautiful without ever telling me. I miss that the most when local guys try to win me over with a whistle and a compliment.

Lo siento chicos, I say, tengo enamorado.

Sometimes it isn’t so simple. Sometimes a local guy is genuinely interested, and sometimes he is so sweet he becomes a glass door I just can’t open, because I remember him.

I remember how I was always cold and he was always making sure my toes didn’t turn blue after snow snuck into my boots. I remember that now, now that I’m never cold, because I know I’ll be cold again. And no stranger, no sweet words, no drop of sincerity from any kind passerby will have the flame of his smile. 

He is always warm, and I am often floating between winter and spring. When I get lost, or get caught in blizzards, his flames always get lost with me. 

Posted 3 weeks ago with 2 notes
Después De Un Tiempo

Después de un tiempo
con mareas arrastrando nuestras memorias
mar adentro, convirtiéndonos en polvo
para tapar la antigua historia
que una vez hacia de suelo para el océano,
empiezo a olvidar como éramos cuando fuimos enteros -
como fuimos cuando éramos uno envés de mil pedazos perdidos.

Después de un tiempo
te dejo de buscar en tu forma completa.

Empiezo a dejar que las olas se lleven mi mente
como también se llevaron mis gritos de tristeza.

Después de un tiempo
me mareo de tanto tiempo que tuve mis ojos cerrados,
y quiero abrirlos de nuevo a ver si puedo escapar
por una corriente a un final que no me revuelva entera
el cuerpo, mi alma, nuestras mil memorias perdidas.

Empiezo ver en la distancia una imagen,
que parece mas mundo y menos mar.

Después de un tiempo
dejo que la corriente me acerque a sus puertas de coral,
con ventanas tan finas que puedo ver que quizá al otro lado
vive un milagro impaciente por ser descubierto.
Tentación invade mis venas y pienso que quizá
si abro la puerta habrá vida, habrá propósito al otro lado.

Empiezo a extender mis manos,
pero pienso en ti – pienso en nosotros.
Pienso en todo lo que no pudimos arrebatar
y me congelo.

Vives fuertemente en el polvo del océano,
se que no habrá manera  de escaparnos.
Aunque estemos esparcidos y destrozados
por todas las mareas del mundo -
tu, yo, todo lo que fuimos, son mis dueños.

No sobreviviría otro milagro.  

Posted 3 weeks ago with 8 notes

"Why do you always take pictures of couples?"

"I don’t know. I think it’s because everyone is always so unhappy."

"You think all couples are happy?"

"No. But I see them holding hands, walking slow, and none of that is really easy. I think sometimes, as outsiders looking in, grabbing someones hand is the easiest thing in the world. You extend your own and expect them to extend theirs back. And literally, maybe it is that simple. But the mental process, the process of the heart, it makes it mean something. You’re holding their hand, yes, but you’re telling them that ‘hey, maybe we aren’t happy, but with you in my life I’m getting a little closer to happiness every day. I want you to stick around.’ And that, that isn’t easy to do. So I take their picture, because they took a risk that so many of us never could."

— Isabel Sants; conversations in a botanical garden 
Posted 3 weeks ago with 47 notes