I can't control the length of the days

All your paradise is called water José Domingo Martínez Diego, Pia, Ryunosuke, Others. Bath water discarded: a frog went there to die. Sad perspective for the little frog that, thinking it would find a fresh perch for its reproduction and solace, ended up asphyxiated in the middle of the gray water and solace ended up suffocated in the middle of the gray and greasy water saturated with soap. * I remember them. They were a very pious family. They bathed every day in the river. In winter, if the water froze, they would hack a hole in the middle of the ice to dive in. The old man, while smiling at me, explained that it was also to “aerate” the water. At that moment I didn't believe him at all. When it rained, small canals flowed from the river, the flow was distributed through a system of ponds and wetlands they had created. They left sheets of I don't know what material suspended in the water, one-centimeter-high palaces for their dwellers. When the sun burned, they made another kind of labyrinth, tied with reeds, which this time served to cast shadows. A kind of open-air refrigerator was formed, as if one were entering the coolest room of an invisible house. Once, in the midst of a terrible fire, the mercy of this family performed the miracle that the fire avoided it and respected their house and their land, while everything burned outside this polygon. * -Green little frog, did you get paint brushstrokes on your body? -No, I look like this when I get tanned, when I lie flat in the sun, I get all puffy, the rays penetrate every cell of my skin, when I contract I get all golden underneath, and it's the contrast in value and tones that makes my back look so green. * In the midst of coughing and spitting. In my sickness, afflicted with fevers, I feel their little hops, while the reeds rot, and something lives and grows among them. I can't control the length of the days is born as a spontaneous declaration that evidences a frustration, given our small cadence in the space-time dimension. Where we make banal allegories alluding to our sadly human problems of finitude. Finitude and competition sometimes understood as synonyms, but also as algorithmic multiples that fluctuate in the flickering of this viscous and often or rarely unpredictable earth. The “Charcas” project was born from the need to replicate an ecosystem depressed by drought in the sector of Catapilco, the radical decrease of the species “sapo de rulo” was the initiating problem; and its aspiration of reinsertion was the ideal expectation. The process of replication and reconstruction, invention and reinvention, allowed us to raise these micro and macro environmental phenomena. Contemplation, pause and exercise develop the production and reproduction of small mechanisms of accommodation of these complex systems. We are invariably confronted with narrative, ethical and aesthetic dilemmas; where we learn that the future of life is promised through circumstantial micro politics. “Our situation is astonishingly contradictory. On the one hand, that very knowledge means that we lose touch with the reality we thought we knew. We have more detail and more emptiness. The scope of our problem becomes ever more obvious and ever more transparent and scandalous. It would be directly impossible to draw a new map with new coordinates. Ecological thinking has no center and no limits. Even if it were possible to find a center, would it be convenient? Ecological thinking Timothy Morton We think we understand that the laws of anthropomorphism, and perhaps also of an atropo-mentalism vanish, since they never existed. The scales and materials that seemed to have a certain identity for humans take on wildly creative meanings for those other beings; plastic, sand and glitter seem to have a different feel. The naturalistic urbanisms that haunt the ponds respond to sculptural bodies not stripped of logical morphologies. Here we encounter the critical state of the visuality of the organic, of desire embedded in the materiality of things. In this we explore points of encounter between explanatory diagrams and methodologically hypothetical possibilities. The dark resonance produced by these cryptic dialogues between what is out there refers us to meta-phenomena, which illusorily resolve into curved asceticisms or platonic abstractions, ethereal representations of immensity and the phenomena that spring from it. The earthy, bubbling complexity is coupled in an endless spiral of layers that overlap, rub, hide, blur and interact with each other forming new operations at multiple scales “I can't control the length of the days” is a kind of explorative ideology, where we were able to plasticize certain ideas/annotations regarding the complexity of the behavior of macro and micro phenomena related to cyclicity and existence.