TRANQUILLITY

How much tranquility exists in the sand to sit by the sea, in total silence and listen only to the sound of the waves that are thrown against it. 
Thinking and rethinking about everything that is beautiful we can have but that we do not exploit for reasons that we do not even know, thinking that we are here today and who knows tomorrow, because after all we are all one who knows, all our thoughts by the sea have a who knows.
Admiring the colors of a sunset that has now come to an end, with the most beautiful colors that the sky can give us, is knowing how to appreciate all its shades.

OPEN YOUR HEART TO ME

I confess that I hold my heart between the sunsets,
split in two,
created as a single center,
divided by suns and moons
of another galaxy.
I confess that I am not in my bones, that I have no body, my breath is distorted by opposite impulses
to the immortal nature.
I confess that I have edges outside the body, between the clouds and the stars.
Knots in the throat.
Desires left in the red veins.
Pulsation.
Danger of melting into so much universal love.

EVER GREEN

We have been fire that burns,
flames that shine on a summer night when you make love and you don’t swear to stay for eternity,
because there is no need.
It’s all so far now,
and I wonder if we ever existed.
But the ashes still give off smoke.
I don’t know if in the course of my existence I will think of these moments as just blooming sunflowers or ashes flying accompanied by the wind.
I just know that they will remain etched inside me like an incision on the aorta.
They pass quickly the run-in spring swallows, beyond the subtlety of the sunset delicate joy:
from there the desire for the west is born.
I turn around the saving banks of a distant universe:
that who no longer listens to my will but he feels all humankind at a distance.
I ask by the side of the road, to continue in this stop the company of a hand: that me give the opportunity to make myself heard still happy to intertwine fingers,
mark the time between a glance and the reflection of a May afternoon.
Between summer storms and hope not to live it alone in the shade of a luxuriant tree,
the genuine relieves me of all this essence of reserved living with an eye on the world e a small peephole towards poetry and the beauty of creation.
I am sitting outside, the last glow of the sun on my face. it’s cold,
but I don’t want to go back inside for a sweater.
Seeing goosebumps is comforting,
it makes you feel that something can touch me and I am not indifferent to it.
today I tidied up, dusted off,
wrote an important chapter.
I took care of myself calmly, here the time seems to be less and less.
there are those who think of me,
I don’t know what to think.
I smile at a friendship that blossoms despite the ashes left around and I tell myself that it is not true that the conclusions are the end.
I can say with confidence now:
I’m fine and I don’t hold a grudge.
I am so proud of myself that I would hug myself tightly.
perhaps it can be a remedy for the cold.
The ash on the head. Like any penitent, like any writer, I atone for my sins through writing.
I seek redemption hidden in the perfect sentence.
I try to sublimate my pain and debase my heart.
This is not a world suitable for tall people and I have never felt like a giant.
The only regret that of all this writing will remain only ashes.
How many emotions do you go and how much paper consumed. Who knows how much more there will be. In the meantime,
I am consuming my pen by dipping it in the ink of my soul.
Do not make me an example and I am not even a poet. I’m just reporting on my misdeeds.

STORY OF A SUNSET

- You're beautiful.
SUNSET - Eh, modesty aside ...
- But you put on some restlessness.
- Because?
- Hide something. I bet you are a metaphor.
- You found me out.
- Why do you behave like this?
- I'm a sunset. Being a metaphor is my job. People look at me, think about the end of something and cry.
- And this thing amuses you?
- Enough. We sunsets are sadists who feed on your tears. A sunset that doesn't make you cry is doing everything wrong.
- What kind of metaphor are you this time?
- I'll tell you right away. What are you looking at?
- You.
- Where I am?
- On the desktop.
- How long have you not watched a real sunset?
- Months. Maybe years.
- I'm a metaphor for that.
- Real sunsets?
- A part of you.
- I'm crying. You are a bastard.
- It's my job. Do not get mad. I am a sunset. I make people cry.

VISIONARY SUNSETS

But what if instead of photographing the sunsets, we tried to write them? He is one of those who, crumpling the day, it seems to carry with it the promise of an evening at least as beautiful and if it disappoints you, you get angry like a panther. One of those sunsets that promises to take with you flocks of stars and rain like that perfect evening ten years ago in a remote mountain village me, him and no one else with a love just popped up to skate on an ice that is hotter than that there you go water skiing. But I tell you that for me tonight that one does not lie. I sign him a surety on the fly. Because on the promise of this up front a good one will write about sixty magnificent verses but someone like me he just wants you to sit next to him hug you one by one and tell you: I’m not writing anything to you tonight but if you want something beautiful we show you him and me, because if you promised it such an evening it means that a little we deserve it, and maybe Just for today she deserves us too.
And I don’t know if it’s going to be the two of us. I don’t know if we will watch all the most beautiful sunsets at the sea together. I don’t know if we’ll envy the world or won’t envy anyone. But I know that those black eyes of yours, those fucking black eyes are the most powerful calamity of all.
I am breathing the colors of this wonderful sunset: warm tones, poetry, suggestion, thoughts. In this place the sun can only hide in this way and the reddish shades seem to come alive waiting for the sky to shine with stars. There are 7 billion people in the world right now. someone is running away scared. someone is coming home. someone tells lies to get through the day. someone else is facing the truth. 7 billion people in the world. 7 billion souls. and sometimes all you need is just one.
Watching the sunsets calms me down a lot.
It makes me feel at peace with myself, and calms my thoughts.
We see sunsets every day, yet they are always all different and uniquely magnificent.
I want to live like a sunset: to change constantly, always remaining the same and surprising everyone.
She saw scurrying around as a child with mum when clinging to her hand we walked around and I filled her head with a thousand questions. He saw me as a little girl sitting thinking with headphones and music overhanging every thought. He saw me on summer nights and admiring every sunset as if it never ended. He saw me change every day step by step, kilo by kilo. It gave me beauty when I needed it. For me just for me.
You have changed so much, and maybe that’s right.
but you changed for the wrong reasons, for the wrong people.
the disappointments they always had this effect on you, they change you inside, and maybe you have become the right person thanks to a person terribly wrong.
How many have we been through How many have we been through in this simple park, always sitting on the usual bench. Whether it was afternoon or evening, this was the meeting point, and we didn’t care about the cold or the too hot, we were enough. Turning left I find the swing and I remember the feeling of my face illuminated by the sun as you pushed me from behind. If I look ahead instead, the trees illuminated by Christmas lights. Do you remember when we first found everything decorated? It didn’t seem real to us: such an unknown and abandoned place made magical anyway by some good soul. We started chasing each other like two children, then on the 25th morning we decided to exchange our gifts right here: both a perfume, what a fantasy! Yet I still have it, as well as the heart-shaped card that was there together (badly cut). I still have it and I smile at the idea of ​​having it in my hands. And then the night we saw the shooting star? I’ve never seen one before. And when did we take pictures? When I filmed you on my cell phone because I needed to remember you forever smiling. And about that time when I couldn’t stand and you always grabbed me on the fly Do you remember? Now I’ll tell you a secret: the first few times I seriously stumbled because I was too drunk since I couldn’t handle two drops of alcohol, but all the others were made on purpose because it was too good to find myself in your arms. I could write a book about what we went through in a few months, about the emotions you gave me. Today I curse myself for leaving you without a real and good reason because after two years I have not found anyone like you. Today I’m on the usual bench, as usual I arrive first. You are always late, so I smoke my cigarette and wait to hear the sound of your footsteps making the fallen leaves creak. I turn to the right but this time you are not there. You’re gone. this simple park, always sitting on the usual bench. Whether it was afternoon or evening, this was the meeting point, and we didn’t care about the cold or the too hot, we were enough. Turning left I find the swing and I remember the feeling of my face illuminated by the sun as you pushed me from behind. If I look ahead instead, the trees illuminated by Christmas lights. Do you remember when we first found everything decorated? It didn’t seem real to us: such an unknown and abandoned place made magical anyway by some good soul. We started chasing each other like two children, then on the 25th morning we decided to exchange our gifts right here: both a perfume, what a fantasy! Yet I still have it, as well as the heart-shaped card that was there together (badly cut). I still have it and I smile at the idea of ​​having it in my hands. And then the night we saw the shooting star? I’ve never seen one before. And when did we take pictures? When I filmed you on my cell phone because I needed to remember you forever smiling. And about that time when I couldn’t stand and you always grabbed me on the fly Do you remember? Now I’ll tell you a secret: the first few times I seriously stumbled because I was too drunk since I couldn’t handle two drops of alcohol, but all the others were made on purpose because it was too good to find myself in your arms. I could write a book about what we went through in a few months, about the emotions you gave me. Today I curse myself for leaving you without a real and good reason because after two years I have not found anyone like you. Today I’m on the usual bench, as usual I arrive first. You are always late, so I smoke my cigarette and wait to hear the sound of your footsteps making the fallen leaves creak. I turn to the right but this time you are not there. You’re gone.

VISIT SICILY: AGRIGENTO

Valley of the temples
The giant in San Nicola’s Museum
Efebo of Agrigento
sarcophagus of Phaedra
Ancient greek vase
Ancient greek sculpture
Temple of Concord
San Leone Beach
Sunset in San Leone Beach
Boulevard in San Leone beach
clear sea water

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