CORALINE

I was alone and the trees around made that noise that you hear when they drop everything they have on them and there was silence, but at the same time the sound of thuds, branches, leaves in motion even if everything seemed still, an orange butterfly yes stops on my arm and looks at me, whole minutes have passed in which the only thing that brought me back to the present was my own breath. I’m also trying to let parts of me die and fall off like dead leaves or rotten fruit, but I’m not a tree. Sometimes it all seems so difficult, opening up to the world, trying to explore it being afraid of what might be found in the dark. Sometimes it’s all so difficult, sometimes it’s hard even to love. Nobody teaches us to love, there are no rules or notions to follow, of course there are generic ways of behavior but no written law or particular teaching on love. It is not said that those who love in silence love less than those who shout it to the world. It is not certain that those who love in the light of day love more than those who love by hiding in darkness. It is not certain that those who clash by pulling repressed anger in the soul love less than those who love in silence, keeping the pain inside. Yet, despite this, we tend to classify love on a pyramid system made up of actions, behaviors that are placed above or below other actions of those who have shown better or worse. It is said that love is not beautiful if it is not a quarrel, but why is it said? Perhaps only to create a moment of normality in unnecessary quarrels or perhaps because if there is no conflict there is no intersection between thoughts and points of view that will then bind to each other, who knows when. In fact, the key to everything will be the clash, as happens in the universe. Two galaxies, in the course of their collision, can remain united in a single element by merging with each other, or they can move away from each other again, leaving reciprocal elements in them. This is the key to everything, the confrontation. Love is like the universe, it’s up to you to figure out how to act.

WE’RE LITTLE FLOWERS

We are little flowers that are not seen,
we don’t have sparkling makeup,
gorgeous dresses.
We are simple flowers,
little souls in the midst of life.
Tiny breaths of a moment of infinity.
We are small flowers that grow asking for nothing.
It is enough for us to have the sky above and the earth below us.
Have you ever stopped to observe the wildflowers? Have you ever reflected on the beauty of colors, their shades which not even the most daring painter would be able to reproduce? In their apparent simplicity, wildflowers hide a great pride, a strength and a determination that leads them to stand up among others without anyone having asked for it, without anyone having sown, watered, wanted them. I admire them for their tender beauty, their colors and their spontaneity. Simple and yet each of them to see well is perfect and wonderful in his being. Sometimes I feel like wildflowers, one among many, simple, but with that simplicity that hides a strength that only those who want to look beyond appearances can find. Fair and modest like wildflowers. Shy yet sure of her own worth like wildflowers.
Have you ever appreciated the beauty of a wild flower? I love them. They don’t have a well-kept garden where they can show off their beauty. They have no loving hands that take care of them. They don’t have a long life to be admired. They grow in inaccessible places and bend to the elements of time. But they are tenacious, bold. And on their slender stem they will blossom again in spite of those who do not find them beautiful and those who are unable to appreciate their scent. Isn’t that a nice way to describe women? Women who, like a wildflower, always show everyone the strength to be reborn after one or a thousand difficulties.

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