Sometimes love is deceiving. And she fell into that death trap: she fell in love with a man who, apparently, seemed madly lost in her, thus returning the feeling. But it was all a lie. The story goes that she noticed this as she sneaked up one night at a bar he used to go to, catching him flirting with another woman. Desperate for what happened, she killed her beloved and ran off towards the lake. The screams behind her became intense as did the words: "murderess" they all exclaimed and, while they accused her of murder, she threw herself into the lake and drowned. The bitterness in the mouth and the thirst for revenge led the spirit to watch over that lake for eternity. It is not known exactly what the consequence will be if you stumble into the depths of the abyss, but it is said that she is ready to take away any man in love with her. So beware, from the depths of the waters you could lose sincere and pure love by totally destroying yourself.


For all those times when

The grayest skies will make me tremble again,

For all those times when

My steps will be hesitant on the path,

I will tell myself

What for all those times

My soul has crumbled branches,

trampled on stones

caught the wind

Is that

after all those times

it still stands today

on the peak of a mountain.


Love kills love when it has the fear of losing it.
Love costs a whole heart.
A code to reset the inner network.
Just a date.
Just one place.
Time coordinates.
To cut off an astral beat.
Two that get confused.
A woodworm that gnaws.
Fossa inside the chest.
Toads in the brain.
Lick every layer of dream.
Procedures for not doing the same things.
The need to make a gesture without making the purpose of it understood.
A woodworm that gnaws.
A sea that reaches the heart.
Storms of sentimental outbursts.
I produce poison.
Oh my flower.
Macerated with suspicions.
Oh my flower,
dare to stand under a waterfall of wax.
A mixture of innocence and ardor, twisted on the same branch.


L'amore uccide l'amore quando possiede la paura di perderlo. 
L'amore costa un cuore intero. 
Un codice per resettare la rete interiore. 
Solo una data. 
Solo un luogo. 
Coordinate temporali. 
Per recidere un battito astrale. 
Due che si confondono. 
Un tarlo che rode. 
Fossa dentro al torace. 
Rospi nel cervello. 
Lecca ogni strato di sogno. 
Procedure per non fare le stesse cose. 
La necessità di compiere un gesto senza far capire il fine di tale. 
Un tarlo che rode. 
Un mare che arriva nel cuore. 
Tempeste di sfoghi sentimentali. 
Produco veleno. 
O mio fiore. 
Macerati di sospiri. 
O mio fiore,
ardisci stare sotto una cascata di cera. 
Un misto d'innocenza e ardore, attorcigliati allo stesso ramo. 


-Do you love me? - Alice asked.

-No, I don't love you .- replied the White Rabbit.

Alice frowned and started rubbing her hands nervously, as she always did when she felt hurt.

-Here, you see? - said the White Rabbit- Now you may be wondering what your fault is, why I can't love you at least a little, what makes you so imperfect, fragmented. Precisely for this reason I cannot love you. Because there will be days when I will be tired, angry, with my head in the clouds and I will hurt you. Every day it happens to trample feelings out of boredom, carelessness, incomprehension. But if you don't love yourself at least a little, if you don't create an armor of pure joy around your heart, my weak darts will become lethal and destroy you.
The first time I met you I made a pact with myself: I would stop myself from loving you until you first learned to feel precious to yourself. So Alice no, I don't love you. I can not do that.


I decided: I also knocked down the last walls I had left.

I have to tell you: the more nights pass the more I think exclusively of you.

And not just because the world and its colors draw your shape everywhere.


I'm the one who chooses to think of you.

I think I have hidden something immense in me,

and now that I have opened it,

slowly, the door,

he comes out with sweet vehemence,

taking space and its forms

and always screaming your name.

I know well that you have other and others to which you can place your interest.

I can understand that. Maybe accept it.

But I do not care.

Your monosyllables will never stop the dam of love that overflows in my veins.

It is no coincidence that the blue protagonist of the previous letters has chosen to leave and, not having other inks similar to that,

black and his conviction, determination and firmness can be my guide for what changes in me.

I heard you talking to Aria and giving her advice ... how funny to find yourself talking about us, talking about others.

I can't let my guard down:

there are still many situations to be resolved and dissolved.

But please never think that I may be fake or disguised.

I protect what surrounds us so that everyone can breathe clean air.

But I'm still me ... and your eyes know it.

You undress me, you make me take my breath away,

you steal my sleep, you dance naked in the chamber of my soul, you spray jealousy everywhere.

I know, I should take the reins and stand up to you. But how can I ever if my head is swinging between your legs and your arms?

Or between your shoulders and your belly?

Yeah ... I didn't sleep a wink to everything inside me screaming:

you who flirt with him.

You who think back to her.

And me? Where am I?

In past scars?

Among the unfulfilled dreams?

In the long limbo of the useless infatuations that one feels when everything around is big and inside is still to be discovered?

I do not know.

And maybe I'll never know.

What I know is that your image has never abandoned me and I have always hoped that it would come back to think of me.

Also to take revenge on the timing.

And now?

Leave you alone? Observe your kisses?

Try to pinch yourself? Show coldness? Continue to leave free the compliment and the eye that is always looking for you?

Or escape like that evening of tachycardia?

What a fool my heart ... (in love?)

He would like answers from those who have always kept silent.


My thoughts today go out to all those who are so eager to find a partner, that they are satisfied with a person who is ultimately not what their heart is waiting for. And with this (wrong) person they make plans, maybe even on a big scale: they have a child, they get married, they go to live together, they put a lot into play. Yet, yet, inside their hearts they know that it is ultimately not what they wanted. My thoughts go out to all these people who, for fear of not finding the right person, make the wrong one take too important places in their life. And one day they will see the person their heart was waiting for pass by on the street. The heart, poor thing, will rejoice, but only for a second. Because by now it will be too late to go back. Be patient, man.


We fell asleep in one world, and woke up in another.
Suddenly Disney is out of magic,
Paris is no longer romantic,
New York no longer stands up,
the Chinese wall is no longer a fortress, and the prairie is empty.
Hugs and kisses suddenly become weapons, and not visiting parents and friends becomes an act of love.
Suddenly you realize that power, beauty and money are worthless and cannot get you the oxygen you are fighting for.
The world continues its life and it is beautiful. It only puts humans in cages. I think it's sending a message to every human being: “You don't need to. The air, the earth, the water and the sky are fine without you. When you return, remember that you are my guests. Not my masters ”.

When the epidemic ends, it cannot be ruled out that there are those who will not want to return to their previous life. Awareness of the fragility and transience of life will spur men and women to set new priorities. To better distinguish between what is important and what is futile. To understand that time – and not money – is the most precious resource. Who, being able, will leave a job that for years has suffocated and oppressed him. Who decides to leave the family, to say goodbye to their spouse or partner. To give birth to a child, or not to want children. To come out. There will be those who will begin to believe in God and those who will stop believing in him. There will be those who, for the first time, will question the choices made, the sacrifices, the compromises. On the loves that he did not dare to love. About the life he didn’t dare to live. Men and women will wonder why they waste their lives on relationships that cause them bitterness. There will also be those who will revise their political views, based on anxieties or values ​​that will disintegrate during the epidemic. There will be those who will doubt the reasons that lead a people to fight against an enemy for generations, to believe that war is inevitable. It is possible that an experience as hard and profound as the one we are living leads someone to reject nationalistic positions, for example, everything that divides us, alienates us, leads us to hate, to barricade ourselves.

The speed of the contagion of our change scares me.
The virulence of the spread of our fear terrifies me.
Tremble at the sound of the doorbell.
Startled at the sight of someone on the street.
Start thinking about life before, a first that has recently passed.
Hiding from the world, finally safe inside these empty and silent rooms.
But are we really that powerful?
But are we really that capable?
Are we really so capable of forgetting?
What was it, who were we?
Because if so, really so, we can sleep peacefully and even dream that everything will be fine.
Because if so, really so, we can hope and smile confidently looking at the starless night from a still lit window.
Because if it is so, really so, one day, that day, we will go out on the street running without being afraid of being afraid of the other.
If so, that day, we will suddenly remember.
And, suddenly, we will recover from this disease.
We will be so powerful that we will embrace each other without shaking.
And then, only then, will we finally be healed.


I feel a little sad this evening because I realize that I am a little creature in the face of things we have always struggled with: time, death, love, destiny, life in general, injustices, evil, suffering etc. etc. I feel a little crying because I know that this life is as beautiful as it is sad and we have so little time that sometimes we waste it without realizing it. We could say that we really love that person who has been around us for a long time, we could help that someone because more unfortunate than us without being overwhelmed by arrogance and selfishness, we could decide for once to improve someone’s life because (yes never knows) that that person hasn’t been smiled in a long time. We could teach someone to walk on their own legs, even if they need a little nudge at first, we could just hug each other a little bit more without adding a word too much, because the power of a warm hug is often underestimated. We could do many things that we don’t do, but still remain in the memory of those who have us, each in their own small way, loved until the end. Each of us, as can.


We must never forget that even the Shadow is interior, it is not something that objectively exists out there, and when it has dissipated within us, it will also recede into the world. The more people have access to the new state of consciousness, the harder it will be for the dark side to maintain control over the territory. At first they will impose more and more liberticidal measures, almost compulsively, but at a certain point they will have to let go of those who no longer resonate with their vibration.
Everything that “the monster” does to demolish the light ultimately only strengthens the light. Each path by which he attempts to annihilate the power of the Heart only creates a direct confrontation. The Shadow has a purpose. It affects you in your frailties, stimulates pain, disturbs you so that you become aware of your value. In the end it does not die, but it dissolves. It integrates by giving back to you what you deserve. This is why it is not the lukewarm and fearful who are saved, but those who rebel against their fears. For this reason the Righteous has nothing to do with the do-gooder. Courage is in your Shadow. In the illusion of separation, that’s the only thing you have to deal with.
Love, my dear love, I know you close to me … with your beautiful face. If you change your name, accent, heart and age, it will certainly be your face that will not betray me. The eyes of your face, love, have for me the patient light of the stars … of the night, of the sea, of islands without stopovers, I fear nothing if you will be there to recognize me. My love, from far away, for you, I have perhaps come. And God knows where we will go now? How long have you been looking for my vanished shadow? When did I lose you? In what life? What would heaven dare against us now?


When you were five and still using a pencil, you couldn’t wait to be a nine-year-old to finally have a ballpoint pen. When you turned nine, you told yourself you wanted to be twelve, that if you could just pull the days towards your graduation day, you would. At twelve, you had a bad day, and you asked heaven to speed up time, and take you to fifteen right away. You were fifteen, bombarded with too many school jobs, yet you still managed to endure; nothing has changed, you wanted to become an adult. You turned eighteen. You thought that at that point you could conquer the world; you were on the road to being of age, it thrilled your soul, because you saw it as freedom from everything. Nineteen years old and you fell in love and realized that maybe a skinned knee hurt less after you fell off your bike. You have known loneliness, betrayal, anguish, pain and you have understood that you should not have been in a hurry to grow up.
One of the things that changed my relationship with love was my desire to open up, to be given the opportunity to have the freedom to choose, to inform myself, to feel the need to improve myself. Understanding that, like everyone, I have potential. In this way I was able to increase love and respect for my person, who by nature will continue to falter, but that’s okay and consequently towards everything around me. Once love reaches your soul, she will ask for more and more, again, the best thing will be to find valid sources from which to draw and this is where our openness, our availability and the knowledge of us come into play. themselves. Sometimes it is important to detach ourselves from conventions, stop relying solely on what is served on our plate and listen to us deeply, in search of what can give us the love we need.

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