PAINTING SOME ROCKS

Today I dedicated some hours to art. I painted some rocks with a background on which I will then draw the Viking runes, which I like so much, and then put the colored rocks on the large rectangular vases in front of my house, which are the only ones not dug up by my dogs. It's nice to paint rocks because each of them has a different porosity and each one absorbs the colour, enhances it or dampens it. However today is a sunny day and I put all my rocks out in the open to dry.

When we talk about rock art, we are talking about an ancient art born from cave painting and as the name suggests, it involves the creation of designs and shapes on stones. Drawing on stone, in prehistoric times, was a way of expressing oneself even before the invention of writing. Today, coloring pictures on stones has taken on a whole new aspect, becoming a fun hobby for enthusiasts, a group activity, a job for artists but also an original experience for young children and teenagers.

THE SUN IN A CRUMB

What comes in every morning,
the golden sun,
or the silver rain,
it stays inside the air and inside my soul.
What I see is beauty, in the mountains, in the hills, the beauty of these rays of sunshine.
And am I such a small thing, am I like a sparrow, with a crumb in my knuckle, who would like the whole banquet?
Am I inside this gold of wonderful light and this beautiful warm air, and I see beautiful things and everything looks good, and it really is in reality?
My heart opens with the sun, my body absorbs this heat and life flows through my veins.
Who gives me this life?
I am a small crumb that falls on the sill and yet I am still here and the sun illuminates me and keeps me company.

STORY OF A LUNCH

It is seven in the evening and, on the fifth floor, Mrs. Kapoor is ready to devote herself to preparing dinner. Like every night. At that time, you will be able to see her busy in the kitchen. The first thing you'll notice through the open curtains is the flamboyant color of her Sari. Looking closely, you will notice the graceful decorative effect created by the folds, similar to the petals of a flower. In many years, I have never seen her dressed differently. It holds true to its traditions, despite having moved here to Venice for some time now. He does it with clothes and food. Every day, at seven in the evening, you will always find her there, struggling with the preparation of Roti. You will see her carefully knead all the ingredients, expertly dose the spices for the accompanying curry, divide the dough into many small balls of equal size, heat the usual old plate until it becomes hot, place each cooked disc in a cloth after having brushed it with oil and close the flaps with extreme delicacy. His are habitual gestures. Simple. Family members. Actions repeated almost mechanically every evening. Year after year. Mrs Kapoor, every evening, without knowing it, makes me feel at home.
Mrs. Kapoor is a certainty in a world full of uncertainties.

HEART PIXIE

I am what I am.
It took me years to be like this.
And dreams.
And you are wrong.
I could have been countless others.
That to find us all together, apart from a common and sometimes vague resemblance, many would not recognize each other.
I am what I can.
That may not be much, but never judge anyone for what they are not.
In his place, you could have been less.
And seeing yourselves, you would be doomed.
I am my fears, which are many and some do not even have a name.
And they are just a shadow, a gust of cold wind, a noise in the silence, a phrase repeated in the head.
I am my hopes, I am the road on which I walk, I am my horizon, which does not follow the curvature of the earth, but the less geometric one of my life, of my thoughts, of my alternating emotions.
I am what I am.
And sometimes I still flap my arms to try to fly.

ERUHIN

How does the inner journey begin, the most important and long one?

It starts when you wake up in the middle of the night with tachycardia, when you look around and feel completely lost, when the world seems all sick and rotten but the reality is that you have just lost touch with yourself, or worse still not there. 'have you ever had.

Apathy becomes your answer to life, together with cynicism and pessimism, all seasoned with a generous sprinkling of victimhood.

In front of you there are 2 roads:

-continue to cry, feel inside the heart that bursts with unhappiness and accelerated pulsations, it is the body that is calling you, that warns you, is suggesting perhaps that you must stop,

-or to look deeply and stop with this routine stressful superficiality of a perfect Western.

You can look at what is happening to you and decide that it must be observed, faced, and that something must change, even everything, because in the end the only one purpose, what is it?

You look inside yourself even if it hurts very badly, even if you have to open closed boxes for decades, even if you have even more gastritis than before, and then you choose to give yourself another chance, you choose to choose yourself, to be different and not to feel less than others, because you are choosing your values ​​and it is only your well-being and self-love that you have to listen to.

You do not stop for just a few moments, but you reflect, you do not judge yourself and you take the time of your choices.

They will seem idiotic choices to most people, especially to those who never make choices and live life without Responsibility, (towards themselves first of all) but they will make you the protagonist of your life and you will feel heroic and alive.

Emotions are part of life, joy, vitality, enthusiasm and it is not normal and wise to cancel them to be who they told you to be, or for who you think you should be, it is not normal to feel only anger, frustration and resentment .

Don't tell it to yourself, don't lie to yourself, there are those who are happy and satisfied every day and in any case experience the full range of emotions, they are not polarized only on negative feelings because they just can't do otherwise.

Clear with a decisive blow all the negativity from your life, the anger, the complaints, the heated and excessive aggression in everything you do, give space to the new.

Read stories of courage and true life lived with joy, and contentment, read success stories.

Stop that inner litany that tells you that you will not make it, that you are mediocre, that you are unlucky.

Get inspired.

Breathe and let go of the old yourself.

It is necessary to get rid of everything that you have been. Your previous life is dead and now you resurrect when you thought you were completely dead.

Follow your dreams, even if at present they seem unattainable.

Don't waste your time, worry about your time, how to invest it and how to make it unforgettable.

Choose to live each day in an intense, different and uplifting way for yourself, only yourself, without pleasing anyone.

The one, the only person you have to account for is only you.

If you never stop to step back and try to figure out what you really want out of life, you will forever chase things you don't even really want. Or you will forever feel dissatisfied and unhappy, even if you manage to get them. You will feel like you are making progress, but in reality you are moving away from where you want to be.

There is no point in running faster if you are going in the wrong direction.
Many, too many unknowns to consider when making a choice of this type where revolutions not only in the way of facing life but also in living it. It certainly takes a certain amount of courage that not everyone has.

I’M BURNING MY NEW NOVELS

THE STORY OF A LADY

The snow was falling in large, wide flakes as she struggled to move, sinking into the fresh snow. She raised her head, covered by the hood she had raised in an attempt to protect herself, and watched the house on the hill glow in the night. He pulled a large cloak against his body and kept walking until he reached the door.
When she entered the room she found herself enveloped in warmth. With a sigh he lowered the hood.
"Was it really necessary?" She asked the woman who, sitting in the armchair in front of the lit fireplace, was looking at her.
"Mmm ..." Only the woman muttered, as she stood up and walked over to an old turntable.
Music filled the air as a counterpoint to the sound of fir logs burning in the fire.
Outside, the snow storm did not seem to want to stop raging, but there, in that room, everything seemed to be quiet and harmony. The contrast was striking.
He took off his cloak and hung it on the side of the door, then walked over to the fire and stretched out his hands towards its warmth. She might also know that this place, that bubble, was just dream magic, it wasn't real, yet her brain kept telling her she was cold after climbing the hill in the snowstorm.
“You knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable. " He said, turning towards the woman.
The record was spinning, playing an old song: a female voice telling of a lost love.
"Unavoidable." The woman murmured. "I'll kill him." He then added and the way he said it contained no inflection, it was not a threat, it was simple reality.
"No you will not." She said, approaching her and wrapping her arms around her, leaning her face against the woman's back. "You'll resist, you'll watch him touch me, while you can't even touch my skin, you'll watch him marry me when you can't even talk to me, you'll watch him possess me, when you can't even ..." eyes and placed two fingers on her lips, stopping her.
"How silly." He murmured, his eyes closed. "The betrothed of the king and his court sorceress ..." He opened his eyes to look at her, and they were splendid green eyes, the green eyes that he had sought in his sleep that first night and that had attracted her there, in that bubble in which they had talked, for the first time and for many more nights after that.
"My chains and my freedom." The woman countered, a smile on her lips, the song rang out its last verses, so bitter yet so beautiful, so desperate and yet so sweet. "He can do what he wants with my body, he will never have my heart."
He saw the woman's eyes stiffen again and then surrender as she lifted herself up on her toes to kiss her.
"This dream will be enough for me, this fiction will be my reality and, out there, just a bad nightmare, from which I will wake up in your arms." The snowstorm stopped howling and in the night there was only the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace and the scratching of the tip on the turntable.

MY HOUSE IS HAUNTED

Sometimes it seems to me that all the suffering of this old house enters me. And also the pain of these places.
Even in P ... I felt filled with pain but it wasn't my pain, it came from something in the house. Also in L ...., I changed when I moved home. In C's apartment ... there was something that then blocked me.
Strange things happened to P ... and to S ... too.
It is as if you absorb the negative energies present in a place.
I don't know if there is a place where there is no negative energy. A place where no people died and there were no wars and sufferings.
But I'm not sure if that's the place. I believe this because it is my feeling. Even in V ..... I saw things that were not beautiful and we were stuck.

Or maybe I have it inside and it causes me problems. So I don't know what to think.
Even though PE was a new house, it was on land full of dead.
I don't know if it's something that comes from the dead or something inside the earth or something astral.
I don't know how to investigate to understand it well.

We often go somewhere and forget why we went there, as if someone told us to go there without giving us explanations, as if someone was whispering to us where to go but not what to do and then suddenly stopped, leaving a deathly silence.
It is said that in reality it is not the whispers that stop but it is we who wake up from a kind of trans.

It is also said that if, unfortunately, we did not wake up, the whispers would lead us to do things that go far beyond the human imagination, they would take total control of our person and, finally, they would let us go but with a considerable weight on us. ..madness.
So I tell you honestly that I don't know exactly what I do from midnight to three in the morning. I don't find myself on the bed but somewhere else. I never remember how I got there. Sometimes I even find myself away from home. Am I sleepwalking?

I only remember that I hear these whispers, since I was a child, and I follow them, I follow them and then I don't know where I go and what I find. Will I find myself? Every time I look in the mirror and it doesn't look like me. I have these very dark eyes. But I don't have black eyes in reality. Who is watching me then?

This house was only rented one more time, 10 years ago, by 3 people I know nothing about except the fact that while they were here things happened that the landlady gave a rational reading, but to which I, in light of what has happened to me, I am beginning to give a different reading. The landlady in fact says that these people have pulled the curtains and destroyed the stove, but the strange thing is that she talks very quietly saying that they were very good people, who otherwise left the house better than they found it. The landlady was not at all "burned" by having rented the house to them (in fact it often happens that students dismantle the houses they rent and the owners decide not to rent it anymore) on the contrary, she was very happy with this experience and not he rented it more by chance (strange said by those who saw a hob destroyed by 3 tenants).

        
This house dates back to the 1800s and has an antique parquet floor accompanied by creaking and sinister noises of sorts. For the first month I had no problem other than getting used to a somewhat kitschy house with creepy paintings, antique furniture and porcelain dolls hung on the wall by the neck. Then suddenly strange things began to happen that in themselves are nothing special but put together they scared us enough. 

I will try to summarize them briefly, as far as possible, and I will tell you about the most disturbing ones. One night I was chatting with a friend of mine whobizarre to say it) certainly has a sixth sense, in the sense that his dreams are now mathematical that come true (experimented dozens of times), he often says phrases like "think if this happens now" and this happens regularly (this too lived dozens of times) and has omens when something is about to happen. This is to tell you that it is not a random person who told me certain things. Already on the first day I took a picture in the hallway of the house and (full day without sun, windows and doors closed) on a completely free and flat wall you could see in the photo a strange image looked like that of a bright white cloth hanging on the wall and left to hang. But we laughed about this and thought no more about it. Until that day.
In the afternoon of that day I noticed some strange things in the house: the glass bottles that I had put aside to throw away disappeared, various creaks and gusts of wind which, however, I had not given too much weight to. In the evening as I said, this colleague of mine contacts me in chat asking me if everything was going well, because in the afternoon she had a strange feeling (she suddenly turned to a friend of ours saying "I have a bad feeling, I have to call her").

I then told her what was happening also to get some advice since obviously she is interested in this kind of thing and she told me that it is not nice if the light bulbs start to burn out, for example. Having said that, within a few seconds everything in the house went crazy: I was cooking something in the oven and an oven locking device was activated, impossible to find (I did not even know it was there) and to unlock, the scale went crazy ( it was random numbers and it's not electric), and the light bulb above me went out. That same night I heard a noise in the kitchen and when I went to see I turned on a light, there was another noise and the light bulb in the hall went out. 

From that day on I started to feel and find stranger and stranger things. During the day and at night I hear the sound of footsteps, the parquet in another part of the house creaking or making sudden clicks as if two boards were being struck together, I hear knocking on the window and on the walls. One morning I heard fast, shuffling footsteps (like someone dragging slippers) going from my side of the bed to the door. Then one day while I was in the bathroom I heard a labored breathing a few centimeters from my ear (obviously I didn't see anyone when I turned around). 

I was alone in the house and I felt my back touched, as if someone were calling me. We feel observed and suddenly I see shadows passing very quickly either on the ceiling, outside the shower or elsewhere. I felt nauseating smells localized in points of the house such as in the center of the living room or in the center of the bed (no bathroom or similar) that disappeared one step away. Several times I found the wardrobe wide open, with the windows closed so no drafts, being sure I had closed it. I found open a cabinet that was locked. And yesterday, last thing, same noise as the first time in the kitchen, corridor light on and another bulb that starts with a snap. foreigner not knowing the rules of the place, then I did not find anything.

Not in the sense that nothing happened in the house, in the sense that I didn't find the house at all. This last thing may depend on me, on my inexperience with the land registry.

One of the hypotheses we have made is that the previous tenants have had a séance and this spirit has never gone away ... if it is a spirit ...

LUCKILY

Luckily I stocked up.
No, not of flour, yeast and toilet paper, but of racing, of the sun, of diving into the sea.
Of life in the woods, of nights in tents, of vigils at the stars, of campfires.
Luckily I cooked on the grill, I hugged millions of times, I drew volleyball courts on asphalt and sand, I played a hundred treasure hunts, I lit bonfires and sang at the top of my lungs to the sound of a guitar.
I have backpacked miles for miles to places I've never been.
I felt the rain on my head, I sang under the trees, I wrote with sticks in the sand.
I swam in the waters of an ocean at midnight when all was silent.
I inhaled the scent of wet ground.
I loved so much, I cried and I smiled.
Fortunately, otherwise what would I think now?

I CAN’T SAY MANY THINGS

I don’t say.
Sometimes I breathe hard and I wait for everything to pass.
I don’t ask,
I wait for everything to stop,
for the wind and the storm to arrive.
I don’t say.
I do not tell of how many hells I have had and how many times I have drowned.
And they weren’t bathtubs.
And they weren’t toilets.
They were tomatoes from kitchen dinners with screams and destruction.
They were emotions that I was trying to restrain.
He was a monster that I was trying not to let out.
Words to forget everything that has happened,
at the entrance,
or in the bedroom, dawns, tears,
screams and more screams.
I have no respect for human beings.
I love monsters because I know they are monsters.
The human being, on the other hand,
always has too many nasty surprises.