The Shadow of the Wind: The Cemetery of Forgotten Series, Book 1 By: Carlos Ruiz Zafón Narrated by: Daniel Weyman

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Carlos Ruiz 's The shadow of the Wind is a phenomenal book that delves into Magic realism it is a read that is both spellbinding, captivating , hypnotic and transformative. This book eclipses many other titles ive read in the magic realism genre, showcasing his ability to illustrate and develop an engaging charismatic young storyteller. The novel is about young Daniel whois invited by his father to the'cemetry of the lostbooks' in the Cityof Barcelona. An obscure Labyrinthe, a treasure trove of forgotten books. Danielon that special morning of 1945 discoversthe La Sombra del Viento by Julian Carax a book which transformshislife, and takes himona series of adventures. As Daniel ages Several people become interested in this jewel, and one nighthe is approached by a figure who reminds him of a character from La Sombra del Viento, a character who turns out to be the devil. This character is tracking down every copy of carax's work in order to burn them. Yet what begins as a curious adventure from someone with literary intrigue turns into a quest to find out the Life and death of Julian Carax and save those that were left behind.

This exciting read,unveils the story of Daniel the seeker of truth and a new literary scholar and tells a story of such magic, and mysticism. Painting pictures with images you loose yourself in. Animating scenes. The language and prose is written with such divinepoetic sensitivities,Zaffron sculpts He is a magician ,drawing us an artist, enchanting, and crafting a story, befriending you with the magic of his pen manship, This story is captivating it claims you, Zaffron is a great storyteller,you are hooked as you flip from page to page scene to scene. Lines such as " like the city awoke,like a water colour," he is an artiste," his pen is the paintbrush Each line is a brush stroke, painting vivid images, transporting you into a realm of creativity. With Zaffrons work we see books as more than just pages with literature and content, but access,a passport into existence a creative portal. Zaffron creates 3 dimensional emotive characters that are both animated, and highly entertaining. This book is amust read.

Awkward ways

The awkward way
You smile at me
I capture your laugh
Within
My fist
And when it bleeds
The nervous skitter of rubber eyes
The champions mask
A starlets cry
And as the wolves they circle still
I eat the flesh
A maggots meal
Biscuits
We crumble
To the acid
In the rum of glass
I only want the rope to burn
To mark your
Colours
And your stern
Brittle the form
A sculptures way
And scribble the exit
In our play

iron girl

image from smashing magazine


Lost girl
I've found your keys
I heard you
Blamed me
When you sneezed
The ink of pen
On shattered foot
Salt dust eyes
Which marred the soot
We blamed the door
It,s panelling
An iron oak
Which promised pain
The eucalyptus womb
Of Eggplant oil
The bits of squealing
Slaughtered brain
The nose it whispers
Paprika scents
Black pepper
Tiles an almost floor
And when you stepped
Beyond the frame
There were no shadows for now before
I christen all the hopes you kept
The dreams
That barked and then they slept
The wizards scar
The trolloppes teeth
The cauldron
Bubbled what you keep
For of the bats which hang and sting
My iron girl
Just turn the key
The watchmen lie near gates
Their eyes they claim
What ghosts don't see

his million dollar dreams

image from fallfade




Stand by me when the chips are down
When I can only
Count fingerbtonthumb
When pain has left me numb
And cheeks are scarred with failed attempts
I have coughed
And hiccupped
For these dreams
Torn out hair by each fine thread
Let its limbre leak on lap
And studied morgues of
Visions dead
This million dollar dream
Count the catch in each
Fine step
Study offices
Never kept
Were gold it brimmed
From sour thoughts
I am man magnificent, hungry in eye
Stealth in organs
That separate like jigsaw
The snail glue snot
In my sausage hand
Open your eyes
I am just a man

makevellian heat

image from paintingsilove


orange sun
With ripened glow
I look at you
And miss the snow
For these beads of sweat which
Often pool
Tell a story that' s far too true
This hanging waist
These snakeskin braids
These crusted feet
Like duck
I wade through
Murk
And narrow slim
I am lost and far within
The city
Pia's
Streaked with pain
It,s ocean blue
And Midas sand
Rubber hands trudge on
As boulder limbs
Whimper
For a throbbing womb
A pulsing neck
Which splits
Gushing with it
The silver foil

the dark misplaced face

image by flickrhivemind.net



I should have
Seen
But never you mind
In the dark
Were blind as mice
Giant arithmetic
Counting ten
You eat the scrapes
Of your rotten fruit
Blizzard bleach to mar
The tide
The wolves they howl
A whimpered whines
Tarzan beats
Upon the hard shield
Of turtle chest
Kings build palace
The doll could have lived in
We pick bamboos
To line our hut
Concrete
Becomes a stubborn slut
Egyptian silk
Mamboes with grace
Whilst he recalls
My misplaced face.

The policeman's siren

Stilts
For the working girl
Porcelain lashes
And chocolate face
A mouth that pleads
To be disgraced
And legs which open gates
That close
I am your watermelon
Each nipple seed
Aroused
Suspicion
My tongue
Not in your jurisdiction
The wise owls watch
From Brooke of electric streets
You claim the dance
You've marked this street
The fish and bird they build
Their nest
Upon the bank despite distress
From the yellow eyes
That claim the night
I am not the farmers daughter
Neither priestess
Belly hot
I age with acid which romps
The bones
The burn in corners
The mermaid moans
Upon the bed
The chorus sings
For our siren marks
The fruits of day
It's wetted flesh carouse
Our bay

the Icarus bird

image from the life normadik



College of suns
Were pyramid high
My Muhammed
Climbed his mountain high
Through dense Goliath
And old mans shame
Its golden rays
Rebirth his name
For you are no archangel boy
Upon the skid
The crust of whip
We lie timid
He touched the ash
Which melted flesh
Clay for fingers
To pupperteers
Descending
To an orbits debt
I chew the tongue
And spit it

courage to fly

image by ideia visual



Werewolves wander in skylit moon
Dragons flame the night skies noon
The eyes which pinch upon
The tusk
Ne,'er the strange ones
With their musk
I compass our
Forever selves
The frozen fruit
The layman's elf
Of shells where
Pearls
They roll
And stride
Far beneath the crescent
Cocoon it sits
Chandelier sky
With buzzard lies
Candles in the wake of swamp
I move with left
As
Rights far gone

Russian men

image from tuttart


Dough eyes
On lambrini pink
Speaks in sleuths
Where clusters think
She likes the Russians
The gargle of words
Their throaty promise
Their husky verbs
And as the wet
Pools from the claw
The tomb
It pulses
For fairy kings,
The ogre places
Tree stump link
But lately she likes Russian men
The Cubans cried
Their storm without
She was a tooth
Without a mouth
The taste bud of succulent yesterdays
The puss of
The Wiseman promise
Take me to that Eden bridge
Where no one crosses
And I the crow
Have ink on skin
With beagle knows
Request the life
The dead men worship
Then I will tell you
I like Russian men.