There are moments when I would like to stop the time. Today and now, for an eternity. But the time doesn’t listen, it is a playful child, hurry on its way. And there are millions of reasons when I would like it to just fly away. To just fly away so I would wake up somewhere else.
Sometimes people are too hurry to be able to listen. They don’t listen to anything. Or they just listen to be able to answer, not to think or feel that question. And so, they understand what they want or they understand too late. Or when there is nothing left to be understood.
There are moments when I need to take a break and hide in my soul hideaway. Sometime the spring comes along with this mood and fatigue. A moral fatigue that I cannot overcome with just few hours’ sleep or even a day off.
A break. To disappear is the easiest thing. It’s enough to close all the doors that might lead to you, not to turn on any lights that might let anyone know where you are. And so, you are forgotten. It depends. It depends on how many people you have around you, who will insist on you to get your head out of the window, to see what may be going on there. So, I decided to take a break. A short break, intended to be for just a few days, that prolonged to a few weeks. And so, I disappeared. And for a few days I was trying to find my words to announce my presence back, but it’s seems so difficult to find them. The writing was always my best and easiest way for me to express myself. Writing it’s just like giving a small part of your soul as a present to a place that is originally empty, and then it’s no longer so. But sometimes life takes us by surprise.
It happens to me more and more often that I find myself writing… but in my mind. If it only could exist a machine to record the thoughts that I have in mind, when I am on the street or when I am busy doing something else, I would write a lot of books, maybe I could get prizes as well for that. But the thoughts run like the time. With it, my words run as well.
There are days when you wake up and your world seems to be different. It seems that something has changed and nothing seems to be the same, that it’s not good any longer where you stand, that people around you are not the ones you once knew, or maybe you are not the same person you used to be.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the fact that we are wrong because we don’t know how to listen. And not listen necessary to others, but to listen to ourselves. To offer us the comfort our soul needs. To be happy with ourselves, even when the circumstances are not favorable. And I offered myself a short-long break in which I watched some good movies, I read some books, I laid down in the grass and enjoyed the sun. Until the “winter” came back. We have an autumnal spring in Milan this year.
Here are a few moments in a sunny day, with lots of daisies, and I wear a dark green flowered velvet dress.
