COLLECTORS

I collect secrets, put them in line and keep them in my thoughts. You can find secrets everywhere, you just need to know how to observe, be careful, there are all kinds and they are all different, the secrets, I collect them and put them in a row in my thoughts. Only, one day, I happened to find two identical secrets, in my collection, it had never happened, and since that day, my secrets, I could not make them stand in line in my thoughts, it was a completely confused and painful situation and nothing happened to change her. And in this way I entered a state of discontent and mania and from this state there was no way out, or so it seemed to me in those confused and painful days.

I collect thoughts of waves, unexplored castles, I return to the depths of destiny, soft entry, in the middle of my breath I open every sound. Possibility of the story leaving on the dust of the objects I collect. The courage of a memory terrified to be a memory. Shaking a thousand times, a thousand nights, for one less letter on the pillow. What number have you arrived at, trapeze artist? I rock on my bed full of music CDs. I miss the dance of music on the candles, it was so good to ramble together. Mysteriously tuned, instruments of the mind, threads nailed to the wall of the heart. I don’t know any out of tune notes, broken armor, frozen lapilli and the volcano always has the red light of the rose.

I like the night. The night is that place where it is always too late to regret what you did the day before and where it is too early to regret what you will do the next day. Night is a time where sins don’t exist. Broken voice, breath and blood, the first dreamless night. Reanimate the heart with black lines. Chasing an “A” and ending with a “B”, as in an equation with no unknowns. Tears of emptiness over the souvenirs. Cries of wind make room in the city.

Over time, over the course of my life I have learned to change the sound of my step, I remember when as a child I came running and my step had the sound of laughter, you could hear it from afar arriving with energetic joy, then I grew up and for a short time he became shy, silent and calmer, then changed to a clicking of heels, he went back to being noisy but judicious, like a sensual predator who attracts her victims by making noise, as if announcing herself, like a trap, then mine favorite, the noise became rubbery and comfortable of boots and amphibians a mixture of adventure and lightheartedness, until now that my step is silent and furtive like that of felines, now that I walk life barefoot.

I’M NOT VIRTUAL

Evenings spent in front of a pizza with the sand between your feet and the roar of the sea. You played an ocher guitar, I with my head between your legs, I watched you sing. We waited for the sunrise to go home, so that time would not pass, so that the summer would not end. You asked me to dance for you, I loved dancing, but with your eyes looking at me even more. You told me that some summers are never forgotten. That certain nights by the sea are for a few. Go home at 6 on tiptoe so as not to make noise, with my hair that smelled of the sea with my skin that smelled of you. Falling asleep and realizing it wasn’t just a dream. Some summers don’t forget you were right. But sorry if I can’t remember your name anymore. The virtual communities that have replaced the natural ones, create only the illusion of intimacy and a fiction of community. They are no substitutes for sitting together at a table, looking at each other, having a real conversation. Nor are these virtual communities capable of giving substance to personal identity, the primary reason for seeking them. If anything, they make it more difficult than it already is to agree with oneself. People walk here and there with earphones talking loudly alone, like schizophrenics, paranoid, oblivious to what is around them. Introspection is an activity that is disappearing. More and more people, when they find themselves facing moments of loneliness in their car, on the street or at the supermarket checkout, instead of collecting their thoughts, check if there are messages on the mobile phone to have some shred of evidence that shows them that someone is somewhere. part, maybe he wants them or needs them.

How can we say that you and I are not now somehow linked by a chat, albeit virtual, nonetheless real? How do we say that just because I can’t reach out and touch yours we are not real acquaintances anyway? How can we deny having known each other, perhaps in the depths, only because we could not meet our eyes. Yet physical contact is so important, despite the fact that there are so many people around who never touch. What is this contact of minds, brains and hearts? How it works, How could it ever matter who I am physically, what my voice is like or what my smell is like, if we never meet? I was brought up and raised in a certain way. They taught me what respect is, the value of words and feelings. They gave me the ability to listen and explained that it is my right to speak. They taught me what a heart and a sincere feeling is. That not everything is real and that not everything can be played with. I have carried these values, these principles and these teachings with me always! Growing up, however, I learned that it is not always possible to respect all this. I realized that I didn’t have to lose what I was taught, but that along with it I had to learn to respond and defend myself. To ignore the stupidity. To leave hypocrisy and lies to his way. I have learned that silence is often more sacred and cutting than many words and that sometimes there are words that cannot and must not be kept silent. I don’t care about the saying “Always do good and even where you receive evil turn the other cheek”! Not me, I protect the other cheek with all of myself if you step on my feet, if you hurt me and I lack respect. I have no interest in saying who I am and how much I am worth, the only interest I have is to live with these priorities… I prefer to show it instead of saying it. Words are short-lived, the facts remain, you always remember them and leave something of you, for better or for worse. I understood that the words of “people” often hurt, they hurt me too. Then I also realized that from the words of truth to the words of those who are only interested in destroying you, there is an essential difference, and that some words not only must not touch you, but must not even be heard. I understood that I have to take with me who matters and who is worth, but to leave to his path those who should not be part of my life. And from the moment they are no longer a part, everything they say and do does not have and will never have the slightest value or even the slightest attention on my part.