Calor. A savana africana ressalta nas gotas de suor da minha branca tez aquecendo-me como Sol. Mistura-se da minha àgua com a que jorra de cântaros aos céus e cuja intensidade gradual augmenta, accompanhada ao de leve pelo pouco intenso trovão, também este parecendo vibrar cada vez mais alto. Plúvia bate em chão de pedra soltando-se em mil pedaços e largando ao ar cheiro de terra e de noite enquanto se não esccorre e absorve o pó do ar. A cinza branca, condensação sem abertas, é tapete para ti, irregular mas de onde a Divina do Trópico canta em voz tão profunda quanto a gargantua em Mar revolto de Tempestade; tu és.
Às duas da manha, a caminho de casa, ver um sapo na calçada saltando de um relvado regado para um arbusto. São coisas destas que me fazem feliz!! Um sorriso rasgado e uma sensação de equilíbrio. A razão porque acordei de manha.
As I look behind and walk forwards I see nothing but a blur. Something that one was as sharp as a knife and yet it forced itself out of existence.
The sound of steel against steel and the light ahead, in the darkness of night. For the sun has long set and now, only the void of Space and the stars shine in the sky.
The traffic lights shine against the black velvet and yet, here, in the far end of the platform you are as small as a snowflake on a white blanked.
Our goodbye was a simple hug of ‘see you later’ and now I cannot bare that that was the last time I’ll ever see your face.
And you-- like so many before moved on. Just--moved on--
How is it possible that none of you misses me? Not a single soul wonders what it is like to be the one looking, wishing--
How could I be a fool believing this time it would work out, that I had found The One even though I’ve seen there’s no such thing out there? Shame on me for believing in such nonsense.
I’ll keep the memories but I’ll finely let everyone go. I am DONE. I’m done running. I’m done walking. I’m done wishing and dreaming and thinking. Done hoping every new you will be different and that it is time to be thought of.
I’m trying so hard not to care, not to feel that I end up feeling what is not supposed to be felt.
I want to burn every memory of you. The bridge, the rose, the scarf, the dance on the top of the world I try so hard to make them just good memories of two people that shared a week of pure love. and then I remember it is no longer real.
So hard to be strong. Because, in the end you also teached me something; so much.
It happen one day on a land as far as the imagination can bare a young boy, who had always lived in his small village by the sea wondered how wonderful it would be if it were possible to navigate the stars as you navigate the sea.
In the wet sand of the shore he sat at nigh and look up. And he thought ‘How can it be that no one sees what I can?’ for he had always been told that the sky up above was just mere point of light far into space. Yet, when he looked up he saw not that.
The array of colours was as spread as the eye could see. Like fireworks flashes of red and green and blue rushed across the sky in a twinkling ray that seemed as strong as fire against the deep canvas of dark. As close or as far the gravity of the movements could be felt as a little tingle all over the body. You could almost see the belts of ice and primordial rock float in perpetual harmony in vastness going from light to light. You could hear a constant low buzz in your ears that was Light passing you by. Ancient light as old as the Earth and the Sun that, for that impossibly short moment was you. You could almost touch every corner of the Celestial Dome, caress with your bare hands the flames of a Star. It was as if a magical symphony was there constantly changing forever. There to be heard and seen and touched. For one moment and one alone one note sounded and forever it was lost, not to be played ever again.
He wondered how was it possible that no one was aware of this impossibly big thing they were part of! How can it be that something so obvious and simply beautiful could be discarded as trash, forgotten and simply called Utopian.
How can people go about their lives thinking of clothes and when to eat and what will someone think of me if I simply stop to look when there is this noise this music playing al time above us? Deafening sounds and feelings every split second.
He got up so suddenly in the rush of sea that died on the sand. looked up and then to the horizon took a deep breath while closing his eyes. A gush of wind rustled against him hair moving with it and then he jumped. Just a small jump in hope that the Laws no gravity for once stopped in gratitude to let him fly. but to his surprise the feeling of relief in his feet was but a moment and soon he felt the air flowing up as he fell back to the sand. He felt disappointed in himself for not trying hard enough not jumping high enough, with enough strength. Not believing enough. And he gadder his thoughts and strengths and jumped once more with all his will power. And fell again. And so he tried to jump as high as the sky over and over and over thinking that, that time would be the one, that this time he would be able to go back home and travel among the intricate fabric of Everything.
The little boy who Believed. The little boy who Jumped.
There are thoughts that, even if you try to hide them inside a box, on the darker corner of your mind they refuse to stay and come back to haunt you. Because it is they who you are and it is to them that you live. Saiiling the Universe and reaching the furdest of star. There is no way I can live a normal life. Not a chance I'll give up the Planets for anything on this Earth. I am a dreamer, a seer of what Could be. Yes, I am not real and I don't think I'm ready to give that up. I don't think I'll ever be.
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