MY DAYS

i spend my days waiting. waiting for the water to boil and my tea to be ready. for spring to come back. for more daylight. the oil in the pan to heat up. a “hey i miss you” or “can you help me out for a second?” or “you want to hang out?” text. for my phone to finish charging. for good news. flowers on the table. the next hug. “hey, you got the job!”. waiting for the sun. to set. to rise. to see both. for summer to be around the corner. a good song. a falling star. a text back. i spend my time waiting to be remembered. i spend my time repeating that tomorrow will be better. tomorrow will be better. i spend my days waiting and waiting and waiting. i spend my days waiting unbearably.

I tell you a mystery: It has been appointed to those who are born twice to die once, but by no means shall they die a second time. Yet those who do not come to Me in repentance shall be born once and die twice. Yet there are some among this generation who shall never taste death, having already passed from judgment into life. Thus to My chosen elect, there is a death of the body unto resurrection. Yet for those still living at My return, there is a death of another kind – the crucifying of your old man with his sinful ways, the putting on of the new man who is renewed in the knowledge of the Truth, restored in the image of Him who created him. Thus when one is born into this world, the child and the mother suffer the pangs of childbirth, until the birth is complete. In the same way, those born of the Spirit shall suffer travail. For they are not yet separated from their flesh or this world, in which they continually stumble.

That eye contact be like gazing into the depths of your soul like I am on the precipice of the void and I am about to fall in.. earth shattering heartbeats, don’t break the gaze. You have the most beautiful eyes, I find that I could look into them for days.. it’s as if our souls are touching intimately, through the looking glass as if we were looking into the future and the past. It’s the craziest feeling looking directly into another soul, I see you, you see me, bared and scared, at any second I could run away..

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.

BLACK KITTEN WANDERING

He wanders, searches, sucks bones but is not satisfied. He moves towards the center, the suburbs, goes up and down the stairs of abandoned buildings, moves cautiously, notices a few strays but pays no attention. On summer days he is freer, less breaks during the day, but a sense of absence, of lack makes him restless. Meows at the moon but she does not listen and I believe it, with all the moon has to do, illuminate the navigators in the black night ... Courage black cat, winter will come and on the road you will find a prey that will ask for your protection .
And so soon the leaves will fall, the frost will cover the grass, the clouds will darken the sky, the torrential rain will crawl the streets and the black cat will look for a warm place where he can have good food and caresses.

MY FIRST CAT MORGANA

A few things were enough for me, it's true I always had my head full of thoughts and unless I wanted it personally it was impossible to take them off, but immersed in that immense stillness not even I could do anything about it, the night was dark and you could not even see the stars, then maybe i could say it was cloudy. There were two rusty lampposts that in front of me opaquely illuminated the road, they were the only source of light not to mention the few cars that sometimes passed. 
It was all so calm, no noise outside of me. In my ears I listened to music with earphones and it calmed my soul. But more important was my cat looking around as if everything she looked at was a wonderful new discovery. Every now and then he would come up to me and give me two licks, while others tried to sleep. But always close to me.
In short, the fact is that in that small balcony, in the most absolute quiet, it was me and my cat, who was called Morgana; and I can say with certainty that no one else had ever been able to speak to me with such magnificence. I finally felt at peace with myself.

MY CATS ON THE WASHING MACHINE

KITTENS ATTACK

I love cats. They are wonderful creatures and masters of life. They are curious and love adventure, but they also appreciate convenience. They know that lounging and sleeping are basic pleasures in life. They enjoy the moment. Cats are both funny and graceful at the same time.

Cats are magical animals. They are the keepers of our home and help keep negative energies away. Their purrs massage our heart. Their discreet proximity is for us a medicine without contraindications, which can cure and even prevent diseases. Wisely, ancient humans regarded the cat as a sacred animal.

How do you do it, kitty? How is it that you know how to conquer everyone, that a minute is enough with you and you fall in love? How do you seduce everyone, from grandparents to the vet? What’s the catch, little one? And to think that you are here by chance, you know? Indeed maybe you are just alive by chance, think if that friend of ours hadn’t picked you up from that stable, ugly and thin as you were, think about what would have become of you … In fact, you know what? Don’t think about it at all. Because now you are here, with us, darling of anyone who knows you. Let’s not think about what could have been, let’s think instead about what has been and let’s enjoy the good fortune that is your being alive and we of having known you. Let’s enjoy all the love that there is and that you know how to arouse when you play as if you were still a puppy and then collapse exhausted. Let’s enjoy the show of your purr when we caress you, let’s enjoy the familiar weight on your legs when you feel like sleeping. How wonderful are you, kitty, but how do you do it? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is having you here.

Cats are somewhat mystical creatures. As they say in a film they are here and there. If you keep them indoors they perceive the subtler levels and devour toxic energies. For this reason, many people have always been in favor of the cat’s “superiority” over, for example, the peaceful nature of the dog. A cat doesn’t follow you for food, they say, it doesn’t need you, they repeat, it doesn’t purr you if it doesn’t want to, they insist. Because in the dual reality in which they find themselves they see independence and intelligence in the “power” of the cat, considering instead the playfulness, fidelity, sensitivity and cooperation of the dog, acts of weakness. In the dual world there is separation. The concept of right and wrong. Bad versus good. Surrogates made even stronger in this moment of ego-referencing. Too bad that in the temple of wisdom that was rewritten to divide men, there is no struggle between best and worst. Each is essential for the other to recognize themselves, to be opposed in teaching and to integrate. They are active and passive, not one yes and the other no. Not black or white.

Blue is the first to get up every morning, obviously she does not tolerate someone sleeping when she is already awake, so she starts crying desperately in front of the door that divides the attic in which we are staying from the rest of the house. It was a matter of time and we knew it but now she has completely settled down and her desire to explore, her dominant nature and her marked independence are felt. She wants to be free to go in and out, she expects every door to be open, there is no weekend to hold, her internal clock was calibrated to human rhythms when we were at our house, here it is different because she has different needs and being at living in a single room, even if it is large, is too simplistic for her, almost punitive. So we have to get up and distract her so that she calms down and doesn’t wake up my in-laws with her moans. She is sweet, Blue, in her own way she knows how to give a lot of affection but she is also a demanding cat, she needs a certain level of freedom and interaction, living with her is a constant search for balance that always results in the satisfaction of seeing her and knowing her happy. It is a period of mutual adaptation, this, of transition, as difficult for us as it is for them. Bruce is the usual big cat who alternates play, cuddling and sleep, she has different complexities and needs that we must somehow satisfy. The alternative is to get angry and scold her but with those big eyes she finds herself able to arouse feelings of guilt far more annoying than any morning wake up call. So you won, Blue, as usual. And in the end, that’s fine with us.