My need to read is pathological; the entire world disappears when I hold a book in my hands.

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Next: V-day Countdown. Prompt challenge.

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Happy to report that Girl of Smoke and Glass was voted one of the Top Ten Completed Fics of June 2012! Thanks to all of you who voted!

There is a place that seems to have been taken from a fairytale. A place that to be one, it has it all: deep and beautiful lakes where lacustrine and marine creatures coexist in harmony; green and tiny lagoons populated by invisible fish and the spirits of gods nobody remembers; shores of sands as white as glazing sugar on one side and as golden as brown sugar on the other, where waves unravel lazily one day and furiously trample on each other the next, but always heavy with minuscule lives; sleepy volcanoes that when stretching they throw fantastic lights to the night skies, exhale hypnotic vapors that mix with the daytime clouds, and burp ashes that turn everything sad and grey, but that when sticking to the rain, they impregnate the earth with a humus that turns everything a light, vibrant green; high mountains clotted by milky fogs and primitive vegetation from where the brave waters that form cascades jump freely, and where legendary and undiscovered creatures dwell; valleys of perennial revelations and replete of friendly animals and glutton beasts, where prodigious, aromatic plants that satisfy the most select palates grow; extensive golden plains where the heat rises in spirals and life appears to be quite but its actually vehement.

This place also seems to be of fairytales because of its people. Theres good and bad people, people who live a destiny and people who decide where they want to go, resigned and belligerent people, smart and silly people, prudent people and people who invents life as the sun rises, noble and cruel people, brave and coward people, cultured and vulgar people, mischievous and naïve people, knowledgeable and ignorant people, and more warm than cold people, and I hope more happy than sad people. In simpler words, theres people.
There are also cities. New and old cities, some are beautiful and some are just learning how to bedeck, but they all contain ghosts and goblins and vampires, and enough stories to write an infinite book, because they always mutate and adapt to whoever is reading.

Existe un lugar que parece sacado de un cuento de hadas. Un lugar que para serlo, lo tiene todo: Hermosos y profundos lagos donde habitan en armonía criaturas marinas y lacustres. Lagunas verdes y mínimas, pobladas de peces invisibles y de espíritus de dioses que nadie recuerda. Litorales blancos como azúcar refinada de un lado y bronceados como azúcar morena del otro, donde las olas se desenrollan perezosas un día y se atropellan furibundas al otro, siempre cargadas de minúsculas vidas. Volcanes adormecidos que cuando se desperezan lanzan luces fantásticas al cielo nocturno, despiden vapores hipnóticos a las nubes diurnas, y eructan cenizas que por días ponen todo gris y triste, pero que al pegarse a la lluvia impregnan la tierra con un mantillo que vuelve todo verde tierno. Montañas altas y tupidas de lechosa neblina y de vegetación primitiva, desde donde se lanzan al vacío las valientes aguas que forman las cascadas, y donde moran criaturas legendarias y sin descubrir. Valles de revelaciones perennes, repletos de animalitos amistosos y fieras golosas, donde crecen plantas aromáticas prodigiosas que satisfacen a los gustos más selectos. Llanuras extensas y doradas donde el calor se eleva en espirales y la vida que parece quieta en realidad es vehemente.
Este lugar, también parece de cuentos de hadas, porque tiene gente y hay gente siempre en los cuentos que no son fábulas. Tiene gente buena y gente mala, gente bonita y gente fea, gente que vive un destino y gente que decide adonde quiere ir, gente resignada y gente luchadora, gente inteligente y gente tonta, gente previsora y gente que se inventa la vida al salir el sol, gente noble y gente cruel, gente valiente y gente cobarde, gente culta y gente vulgar, gente pícara y gente ingenua, gente conocedora y gente ignorante, y más gente cálida que gente fría, aunque menos gente feliz que gente triste. O sea, gente.
Por lo tanto hay ciudades. Ciudades nuevas y antiguas, algunas bellas, otras apenas aprenden a acicalarse, pero en todas hay fantasmas y duendes y vampiros, cuyos relatos dan abasto para escribir un libro infinito, porque siempre mutan, adaptándose al lector.