The breaking of the waves on the worn rock, the cold and icy air of an uncertain winter day where the sun plays hide and seek with the clouds. I want to hear the heartbeat that unconsciously pumps life, the silence of the blood that flows impetuously in its deaf language. I want to smell the warm bread, the smell of simple things that never get tired, of those little things that smell like home. I want to hear the sound of the beating of a butterfly’s wings, the sound of a life that is reborn, the lightness of a day, the freedom of a moment made of fluttering colors.
On February 25th, I saw the light again for the first time, and I caught the first sign of spring in my soul. Absorbed in the warm warmth of a noon that is anything but winter, a white butterfly hovers nearby in my garden. Immediately my mind could not help but think of the lyrics of that song so dear to me: “A butterfly lands on her shoulder, and I, I can only give her a farewell; That his destiny is as fragile as strength, but he says that today it flies, and that is where wealth is. ” I didn’t have time to finish that sentence between me and me with my eyes closed, when I felt a sudden slight tickle on my right shoulder …: it was her. Impulsively I pulled away, but hovered up the second needed to rest on my arm. At that point I stood still, smiled at her, and she took off. Goodbye, I whispered at that point, through tears. I know well that it was you, you, ephemeral thought reincarnated in the most fragile creature that exists. You finally gave me a reason to let you go, forever. Winter is coming to an end, and my heart today is really ready to welcome that long-awaited Spring. … “A butterfly rests on my shoulder, today I sit down and listen to it. Then he says it’s no longer time to talk, that tomorrow he has another life to meet. ” … And I too, from today, will try to start over.
When she turned into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her quirks. They wanted her to be who she always was. But she had wings. She wanted to fly. She wanted to dare again. She was ready to destroy that cocoon and show all its colors.
In the garden that looks like an abyss the butterfly draws attention: interested in his clipped flight its bright colors and the black circles that decorate the tips of the wings. It affects the shape of the abdomen. When it whirls in the air illuminated by a green ray like when it rests from the effect which produce dew and pollen attached to the front of the flower I don’t lose sight of her and if it disappears beyond the railing of the garden because the garden is small or for speeding I follow her mentally for a few seconds until I recover my reason.
I don’t know if I’m wrong or if the time is wrong, or maybe the place where I am. I do not know. I just know that I feel a mistake, in everything I do, what I feel. Sometimes I hate myself, but not enough. I try to feel compassion for myself, for my survival. If life has given me the opportunity to start over for the second time, I cannot destroy myself again. I do not want. I was just a chrysalis and now I want to be a butterfly.
A chrysalis opened, releasing in the clear spring air a butterfly with diaphanous wings that began to flutter happily from one flower to another without ever stopping. “Place yourself on any flower and stay on it. Your life will be short and you will not be able to travel the whole world. It is foolish to tire yourself so much ”, the other butterflies told her; but she was determined to fly as much as possible: she could not waste her existence confined to a single flower, merely looking at a single patch of sky; when there are, however, millions of different flowers and an immense sky. So the curious butterfly flew, flew, and flew until it had the strength, and finally lay down on a meadow; it went out delicately like a candle. “I warned you that you would not be able to visit the whole world, that you would get tired at all”, a similar one would have commented if she had known about her wanderings; but she would have promptly replied “Lilies, roses, sunflowers, daisies, tulips, violets, dahlias, geraniums, irises, water lilies, camellias, begonias, chrysanthemums, poppies, marigolds and daffodils: these are just some of the flowers I smelled. I fluttered among the leaves of countless trees: lemon, cherry, orange, almond, pine, plum, olive, chestnut, apricot; and I flew over different landscapes: rivers, countryside, hills, mountains, valleys, ponds. I saw a multitude of colors: canary yellow and straw yellow, crimson, turquoise, orange, dazzling white, fuchsia, gold, silver, coral red, emerald green, forest green, amber, midnight blue, indigo, purple, pitch black, pink sugared almond, burgundy, beige, ocher, cyan, magenta, lilac, amaranth, light blue, purple, lavender, mauve. It’s true, I haven’t seen everything, but I’ve seen everything I could. “

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