Tuesday, May 19, 2009
From the cliff all you can see is the sea, immense, inscrutable, and dangerous, but she loves it anyway. She lives in the house on top of the cliff where no one never come, no one never want to be. There the wind is cold and the rain is colder. No one but her can love that place. There she sees the ships coming and going, facing the reefs with courage, going to worlds she will never lay eyes upon. Sometimes she thinks her life is pointless but wakes for a sunny day and from her window she sees the sun beams dancing in the waves. She can see, in those days, when shoal of fish pass and sometimes whales make the little coast their house for some days, their tales waving to her from time to time. She lives where no one wants to live, but she is not like anybody else. She is like the sea.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Your imagination can be your best friend or your worst enemy. You can picture a stair that ascends from your mind to the sky. Or to hell. I like the journeys that lead me to the moon, but it is not always easy to step up to it. Sometimes I have my mind burning with questions and doubts that send me to the dark lands, via express train. It’s hard to find the moon there, it’s hard to find myself, but I can always reach for a dear memory, a memory from days that had no trouble in the air and where the worst nightmare was loose one of my dolls. This memory, sweet like the air in my grandma kitchen, brings me the steps and soon the moon shines in my mind. I am a werewolf without fangs and fur; all my senses became multiplied in those steps; all my feelings better ones. I drink from the pale beam and feel my blood turning to liquid silver. I am not human anymore. I am just another star revolving around myself for all the eternity. And finally I am free. I can return now.