Once in my life I found my ex-partner's hands around my neck and he wanted to kill me. We had a baby and I immediately thought that afterwards he would do something to the baby so I rebelled and bit him on the chest so hard he bled and sent him away. It was a terrible scene and for me the violence and anger is the thing I can't accept. I can't forgive anyone who hurts me or screams in my face because it's too bad to bear.


You listen to music, the days pass, the years pass, you feel that music and everything comes back, you relive everything: the images, the perfumes, the mood experienced in those three minutes of past life. Everything has been magically recorded deep within your soul… like a key opens an old door, you log back in through sweet or bitter notes in your world at the forgotten moment.
We never stop healing. We’re constantly experiencing new things in life, and sometimes life has us go through some crazy shit that can cause us to be bitter or cynical, and usually negative. So let’s all focus on self-care and spending time with ourselves since this is one of the ways we heal and develop.
my impulses and i are in constant conflict, arguing about when to act and when to overlook my stubborn desires. there is a fine balance to being human.
If you ever feel like certain things are just not going your way, just know that you will survive and overcome. Nothing lasts forever so know that your time will come. Life and circumstances are always changing. Don’t give up!


I took a break by deleting a blog with 2300 followers and an average of 100 likes for each post. It was a moment of tiredness, of disappointment. When you talk for so many years about the things that interest you. People follow you but then don’t talk, or talk pogo, you wonder what you’re doing there. I noticed that in the past many people no longer read blogs but prefer videos because they are now more used to images. This has very disheartened me. Also, I kept blogging only as a hobby and I didn’t have the purpose of making money but for me it was a kind of contact with the world. But I didn’t want to have it anymore because I saw that the world has changed a lot and I didn’t like those people anymore and they didn’t understand me. In my life I have always tried to help everyone but no one has helped me. I am not a computer expert and I do everything from sila. My family doesn’t read blogs but watch videos. Nobody knows what I write, nobody has ever been interested in me. They have never read either my blogs or my books. But I continue the same.


When I stay in my depth and see those things that were important and that now float in nothingness, I feel relieved. I feel liquid like water on the ceiling. I received a lot of energy and I have wasted just as much on many things. But when I look back I see the depth of the sea in which I drowned alone and from which I emerged several times.
I think I’ll always be a romantic, you know? Someone could completely rip out my heart and walk away and I’d still be willing to believe in love again. They say hope breeds eternal misery, but really without hope, what else have we got?
I am tired of being a person. Not just tired of being the person I was, but any person at all. I like watching people, but I don’t like talking to them, dealing with them, pleasing them, or offending them… I am tired. All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me, and be okay with that. I had no need for material possessions, money or even close friends with me on my journey. I never understood people very well anyway, and they never seemed to understand me very well either. All I wanted was my art and the chance to be the creator of my own world, my own reality. I wanted the open road and new beginnings every day.
I was Alice in chains. I was Alice inside the cat and I was meowing. But the wonderland was far away. I believed the rabbit. I loved the mad hatter. I loved the queen and lost my heart. You’re gone, but I remember you, i remember the light in your eyes, the sound of your laughter that sounded like heaven and the warmth of your voice that sounded like a lullaby. I remember you by the unconditional love you carried inside and by the purity and the innocence of your dreams. I remember the way you payed attention when people talked, the way you cared for details, the way you showed love. I remember how your hands and fingers looked like when playing music, i remember the way you performed on stage and the way you shined like a star. And, i remember the way you cried, the way you begged for help, the way you fell apart. I remember your desperation and your sadness, i remember your lack of energy and the pain in your eyes. I remember the way you lost your fight and the day you said goodbye. I remember you by all your little things, i remember you by what you left behind.


A day will come when your days will be unbearably too long, your nights will be too quiet, and the floor will feel too cold on your skin, and you won’t have any other choice but to pick yourself up, kick your feet up, and rise up again. Because really, how long will you stay down, waiting, crying, and moping around when you’re the only one who can decide to save yourself?
My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness. Continue to allow humor to lighten the burden of your tender heart.
Find someone who loves you well. Someone who never belittles you. Even in the heat of an argument. Someone who is gentle with you, but does not treat you like you are fragile. Someone who knows what you are capable of, and celebrates those pieces of you. Not someone who is intimidated by your strength. Someone who doesn’t make you feel guilty for being flawed. It is not love’s job to punish you. And remember the person you love is just as broken as you are when they fall short. No one is perfect – do not hold them to this standard. Find someone who is patient, forgiving, and apologetic. Someone who practices forgiveness freely and often. Love someone who is humble, kind, and empathetic. Not only with you, but with a beggar on the street, or a stranger in the supermarket. Common courtesy is important. Compassion is important. Kindness is important.


Venice Biennale is an international art exhibition featuring architecture, visual arts, cinema, dance, music, and theatre that is held in the Castello district of Venice every two years during the summer.

The Biennale was founded in 1895 as the International Exhibition of Art of the City of Venice to promote “the most noble activities of the modern spirit without distinction of country.” The first Biennale, which achieved worldwide recognition and welcomed more than 200,000 visitors, included artists from 16 countries.
For more than 100 years the Biennale concentrated on showcasing four areas—art, theatre, music, and cinema—but in 1998 it expanded to include architecture and dance. In 2004 the festival’s sponsoring organization was restructured as a foundation in order to increase the efficiency of programming and to attract investment from private partners. At the beginning of the 21st century it typically attracted more than 300,000 visitors.


It is in Sicily that a dessert made of ice, sugar and flavorings, known as Granita, was created. Popular in the whole country now, granita is probably the closest thing to the original sharbat as it has a more slush-like consistency than sorbetto. Today, commercial sorbetto can contain small amounts of milk, but many are still made only with fruit juice or syrups and ice: this is what in America is known as “Italian Ice”.
During the Renaissance, frozen desserts became very popular in Europe by way of France, although it is, once again, an Italian we must thank for it: Caterina de Medici, a lover of good food, brought along her troupe of chefs from Florence to Paris and it was them who began to offer sorbets at dinners. However, there was still one more step to take to make these –already delicious– sorbets into real ice-cream.
The differences between Italian gelato and ice cream are slight, yet make all the difference in flavor and texture. Gelato is made with milk, sometimes skim-milk as opposed to cream which gives gelato a much lower milk fat content. Less milk fat allows the flavors of gelato to really stand out compared to the more blended flavors of ice cream. Gelato’s flavor is helped by the fact that it has less air whipped into it than ice cream, making it much denser.
Ice cream in Italy is like nowhere else in the world, and once you’ve tried it, nothing else will compare. Like any ice cream, Italian gelato is just “composed essentially of milk, eggs, fruits, chocolate or other ingredients which are frozen” (according to the Dictionary of the Italian Language, Giacomo Devoto and Gian Carlo Oli) but it’s got a little je ne sais quoi (or ‘non so cosa’) that makes it truly unique.
You’ll want to look for signs proclaiming gelato fatto en casa (homemade), produzione propia (our own production), or artiginale (artisanal). These signal a higher quality of ingredients and finished product.
If you don’t speak italian, don’t worry. Often the placards naming the gelato include pictures of the main ingredients, so you should be able to figure out what they are. Point to what you want if you have to. If you can’t decide what flavor to try, try several; even on a small cone, you can usually choose two flavors. You’ll have to specify if you want a cone (cono) or a cup (coppa). Gelato is priced by the size of the cup or cone, or by how many flavors you select.


The night isn’t beautiful
It feels of pain
And I’m blanketed in nostalgia
Smothered in the past
I cannot outlive the life I had
It creeps on me
From behind
Like a toxic reminiscence
I keep putting the two side by side
How my heart has grown old
How innocent it used to be
The cared for smiles now haunt me
The person I used to be
Laughs at my face
How helpless?
How at loss of words?
No way to let the sadness alleviate
Only tears to leave tracks
Driedup by the morning wind
‘Nothing lasts’
It is said
Probably for the best
Because there is no way
I could build a home
Of permanent solitude
In the arms of a stranger
With the skin of someone I once knew
Carried away by years
Like sand to the shore
Waiting to settle
In the dusk
With the birds returning home
And my compass haywire
Unbeknownst of a future
Carved in the letters
Engraved by someone else
A life conceived
Out of love
Running out of love
As the tinge of moroseness
Clouds every thought
The power to end it all
Streaks across the sky
Like a star breathing its last
‘Make a wish’
It is said
How about,
No wish at all?
No need to aspire to?
Just merely,
Just barely
A hint to survive
To be washed up at the shore
Softly caressed
By the setting sun
With water replacing all air
And a soft sigh,
Good bye for now.


You know that I love wood and I like wood everywhere at home, or natural materials like rocks. I like simplicity, essentiality, pure colors.
I’ve always been told a house will never sell unless all the walls are painted beige. This is my house. It went up for sale yesterday and sold within hours. It was the hottest listing on the site. I am getting multiple simultaneous phone calls nonstop about it. Everyone who has seen it has remarked about loving the colors, how it stood out from every generic beige box they had seen in a hundred other listings.
So here’s some inspo and encouragement for y’all to go out and get some color in your space. It’s a fairly easy and inexpensive way to make your place more fun.
In my next place, I’m gonna take things further with handcrafted glass and ceramic tile, stained glass windows, offbeat fixtures, and a goth-as-hell exterior.
A small corner for my frequent baths is a must. I love water and I like to relax in the bath. I like the candles and the relaxing atmosphere for two to share.


And perhaps
you are the moon
that stays all night
listening; loving
what’s left behind
by the sun
because I’m the
bigger star
shinning, lightning
what’s still
on the run
and we can only
be that beautiful
If one of us
Is gone.
To the moon.
I’m not willing to go back,
It’s just the sea,
Where we made love..
And my forever cold feet,
That keep me up at night.

When you moved fast,
Beneath the sunshine,
My smiles were just,
Echoes of your laughs.
Did you figure that out,
When you were near me?
I’ve started to ask myself if I’m a hopeless romantic or a heartless one. Because I want so badly to believe in love, but you keep proving me wrong. I wear your ring, and I look across the table, still hoping you’ll be there. It’s been nearly a year now and I didn’t know I could miss you for this long. No one told me the grief wouldn’t end. No one told me death could feel so permanent.
No one told me that losing people you love means burying a part of your soul 6 feet under.

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