I stopped looking..

[Sun in her garden looking for her ring. She gets angry and starts ripping up plants. She sits down and cries. Locke enters.]

LOCKE: Bad day? [He hands her a handkerchief] It’s clean.

SUN: Thank you.

LOCKE: You mind if I sit? [She motions for him to sit.]

SUN: Did you see me?

LOCKE: Rip apart your garden? No. [She laughs.] Sometimes I wish I had a garden to tear apart.

SUN: I don’t think I have ever seen you angry.

LOCKE: Oh, I used to get angry. All the time. Frustrated too.

SUN: You are not frustrated anymore?

LOCKE: I’m not lost anymore.

SUN: How did you do that?

LOCKE: Same way anything lost gets found — I stopped looking.

Locke: «That’s a moth cocoon. It’s ironic. Butterflies get all the attention. But moths, they spin silk. They’re stronger, faster… […] You see this little hole? This moth’s just about to emerge. It’s in there right now, struggling. It’s digging its way through the thick hide of the cocoon. Now, I could help it. Take my knife, gently widen the opening, and the moth would be free. But it would be too weak to survive. The struggle is nature’s way of strengthening it.»

–

Locke: «You’ll be able to cut yourself free once you have the proper motivation.»

[Shot of Locke’s hand putting a knife into Walt’s hand. Walt throws the knife at a tree, but it bounces off.]

WALT: Man, I suck.

LOCKE: You can do better than that.

BOONE: You might want to take it easy on him.

LOCKE: [pointing at the tree] See this knot, Walt? I want you to aim for it, right here. Focus on it, alright? Picture it in your mind’s eye. You know what that is, right? The mind’s eye?

WALT: Like a picture in your head or som. . .

LOCKE: That’s right. Now do it again. But see it. See it before you do it. Visualize the path. See it. See it.

[Walt gets ready to throw again. Shot of Vincent looking off toward a sound. Walt throws the knife and it sticks this time.]

BOONE: Whoa.

WALT: Yes!

LOCKE: I knew you had it in you, Walt.

WALT: It was weird. I actually saw it, in my mind or something, like it was real.

LOCKE: Who’s to say it wasn’t? [Locke hands the knife back to Walt.]

BOONE: So, not to be too difficult, but we’ve been coming here for two days just staring at this thing. I’m not really sure what we’re supposed to be doing.

LOCKE: Ludovico Buonarrati, Michelangelo’s father. He was a wealthy man. He had no understanding of the divinity in his son, so he beat him. No child of his was going to use his hands for a living. So, Michelangelo learned not to use his hands. Years later a visiting prince came into Michelangelo’s studio and found the master staring at a single 18 foot block of marble. Then he knew that the rumors were true — that Michelangelo had come in everyday for the last four months, stared at the marble, and gone home for his supper. So the prince asked the obvious: «What are you doing?» And Michelangelo turned around and looked at him, and whispered: «Sto lavorando» (» I’m working»). Three years later that block of marble was the statue of David.

(..)

y, bueno…

Estás operando mal y todo el mundo lo nota
tu pulso está al tempo lento de un cuentagotas.
Estás apelando mal, seguís sumando falacias
y a tu cliente le facilitás la desgracia.

Unas cuantas Leyes de Murphy
te siguen por doquier,
y ahora soñás con brujerías,
gatos negros, que te quieren morder.

Estás afinando mal, no aguanta más la garganta
te finge la laringe y no sale bien el sosten.
Sos el mejor arquitecto, con un grandísimo disco duro,
no sale un puto laburo, bueh, nadie es perfecto.

Vas por la vida con vasos de agua
e incienzo salvador.
Controla tu vida una bola de cristal
pero igual te hace sentir mejor.

Son los oportunistas de la desesperanza,
mientras más les das, menos les alcanza.
Y juegan con un fuego que a ellos no les quema,
y de repente tu entusiasmo tiene precio.

Adornan tu suerte con velas
tu naipe va a ganar.
Pero esa carta ya está marcada,
bien de entrada, cuando te venga a dar.

Porque son oportunistas de la desesperanza,
mientras más les das, menos les alcanza.
Y juegan con un fuego que a ellos no les quema,
y de repente tu entusiasmo tiene precio.

Juegan con un fuego que a ellos no les quema!

i’m always gonna show up.

DEREK: «I was a jerk. Sometimes boyfriends can be jerks, but it doesn’t mean you stop talking to them… You get that I’m saying I’m sorry, right?»
MEREDITH: «You yelled at me for no reason, and then you walked away. And now you show up here.»
DEREK: «Of course I showed up. Why wouldn’t I? You don’t trust me?»
MEREDITH: «I do.»
DEREK: «Okay, well this is how it works. You fight sometimes and somebody apologizes.»
MEREDITH: «Well, how am I supposed to know that?»
DEREK: «You’ve never done this before.»
MEREDITH: «No, I’ve never done this before.»
DEREK: «From now on, you can expect that I’m gonna show up. Even if I yell. Even if you yell. I’m always gonna show up. Okay?»
MEREDITH: «Okay.»

mi consuelo

Meredith: «We all think we’re going to be great and we feel a little bit robbed when our expectations aren’t met. But sometimes expectations sell us short. Sometimes the expected simply pales in comparison to the unexpected. You got to wonder why we cling to our expectations, because the expected is just what keeps us steady. Standing. Still, the expected’s just the beginning, the unexpected is what changes our lives.

Meredith:» The ties that binds us are sometimes impossible to explain. They connect us even after it seems like the ties should be broken. Some bonds defy distance and time and logic; Because some ties are simply… meant to be.»

Meredith: » We all remember the bed time stories of our childhood. The shoe fit Cinderella, the frog was turned into a prince, sleeping beauty was awakened with a kiss. Once upon a time and then they lived happily ever after. Fairy tales. The stuff of dreams. the problem is, fairy tales don’t come true. It’s the other stories. The ones that start in dark and stormy nights and end in the unspeakable. The nightmares always seem to become the reality.»

my heart will never be your home..so what’s the matter with you? sing me something new..