JOYFUL PLOTS

If you see something negative in the other, it means that you have something negative in you.

If one looks at others and sees twisted threads then it means that he often chokes himself.

The pride of the projection lies in the joy of seeing on the other what one believes not to see in oneself.

But calm down, no distractions because Anna Freud is still elaborating the game that the adult child plays in this society.

There is no restriction for those who look elsewhere.

There is no limitation for those who do not look at themselves at all.

Only one special saying remains in the arc of an arrow:

your grass is rotten because you don't water it.

But saying and not saying the things that are truthful is a sharp piece of whoever removed the score

from the piano to let the player invent it himself.

And maybe the musician is sitting hidden at the end of the hall enjoying the spectacle of the sound void.

Those who are used to following the notes do not know how to cook breaks.

ON THE RIVER

What if it was all in vain? Do you still want to swim, go to the sea, see that marvel of transparent nature. I saw a dolphin come back and the turtles find silent places, the blue becomes deep and the clouds protect us from the heat. It was a wonderful dream but you know, then you wake us up and you find yourself on a beach full of bottles, masks and gloves, the turtles have just suffocated, the dolphins float after having worn out your mask and the clouds do not exist, the heat has become too much for me. I stay closed at home maybe we should get used to it. A dream is not valid but reality kills us.
The more the pain sinks into you, the less you see the wound. Like certain rivers that flow underground, pain, when it is true, is water that slips away without making a sound, a force that erodes and that over there changes the shape of things but, from the outside, they are only stones and silence, the sound of footsteps on the gravel, dry smell.
At certain times of the year and with the right conditions, they swell.
They grow huge, seethe with rage,
charge up and get impetuous, overwhelming anything in their path.
So frighteningly powerful, careless and deafening.
Alive;
In other periods, however, they become small, shy, thin and calm.
We see them creating new paths among the pebbles,
frightened and lost, inside a bed that until some time before was so full of their own furious being.
Without NEVER interrupting their continuous flow.
Don’t stop, that’s their imperative;
Towards their goal. Towards the sea.
That’s why I like them.
Two faces of the same revolution.
I watch them, listen to them, admire them, in awe of their determination.

%d bloggers like this: