Here we are again in that period of the year when the lights go on everywhere, the memories thicken, the shortcomings become even heavier and that sense of melancholy mixed with joy caresses your soul, supporting you for days. It is a beautiful and difficult period and the state of mind varies according to the personal journey of each of us. We have gone through very hard, difficult and distant moments from affection, hugs and certainties.
There are dull days, in which a thousand setbacks occur, in which the problems to solve, the things to do multiply, in which all the programs skip and you just have to start over. Days in which there is just enough time to stop and sigh, thinking "I can't take it anymore".
Even these days come to an end and what remains on us is a great tiredness which fortunately is accompanied by the awareness of having done everything possible. Especially when we are dealing with many people, for various reasons, it is really difficult to always understand and also always make yourself understood.
One of my wishes is to have fewer days like this or the ability, if I really have to go through them, to be able to live them with greater patience and serenity, to always carry something good with me, even when I really have to dig to find it.
Less nervousness, more smiles. Being able to cushion the impact that other people's wickedness, selfishness, lack of gratitude have on me. Because in the end the problem is this, it's me. I'm still not good, I feel like a sponge that absorbs everything.
I need someone to laugh with me at my weird way of talking to trees.
I can't remember anymore when I was happy and had fun. I whisper to the wind and the clouds.
The rain only in the evening and the blue always on the lips. I let all sorrows and disappointments land on a land without wars and I guess men are not violent.
Tonight I would like to smile for all the people who are here and whom time has left on my way like precious flowers.
You are all often the only eyes I see in the darkness of this war. I am very fragile but you give me a lot of strength and support and I thank you all for being here.
You are beautiful flowers on the street and I see you and find my peaceful silence.
THANK YOU SO MUCH.
My mother was a fashion designer and always wanted to work but she lived in a country where men didn't want her to work. Men thought her fantasy was evil.
he wanted to dress black women in a country where they always wore dark colors and black. She fought to bring color to a sad country full of people who always judged her.
But she continued to create, she was always there for all those women who wanted to be not only dressed but also listened to. But men judged her badly because she put strange ideas of freedom to those women who were often treated badly by their husbands. I'm talking about a small town that wasn't as modern as it is today.
Those were bad times for women, and men expected women to all stay home and have children.
My mother had received the gift of creativity and she would design her own dress patterns in order to bring some happiness into the lives of those sad people.
But everyone made war on her and so when she met my father she was forced to leave her country because she understood that it was very difficult to destroy a tradition that had been going on for many years.
She was sad about her choice, which my father had requested, but she always went back to her country and took an interest in those women. She was a kind of fairy who wore beautiful things, who listened, who did magic with clothes and everyone loved her.
She passed on this creativity to me but I live in a country now where women only think about money, where they never smile and where they only think about buying dark and black clothes and I can't do anything because I'm judged and criticized and I feel very uncomfortable because i don't do the same things they do and i don't have any friends and i only listen to my cats.
What is the use of so much imagination if you can't give it to anyone? What is the use of creating so many things if I then have to keep them locked up in the attic?
Being yourself exposes you.
Being yourself with time you realize that it makes you helpless because misunderstood.
To be yourself is to show your true essence, your true soul, and after trusting the outside world.
You realize that he leaves no way out for real people.
From that moment you really learn that it is better to build a mask and face life with a smile even if it is not true.
Even if it's not yours.
And behind that smile you suffer.
You are too unique and precious to give yourself at this point to the world that does not deserve you.
But only to those people who you will recognize as you are profound and unique.
Like you.
Life and its teachings are unpredictable.
Like the calm sea in appearance.
But it hides an intensity and a disarming passion.
My essence is part of it.
And nobody can control it.
But it can only lives me.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 