IN THE BLUE NIGHT

The footprints of the night walk beside me.
I meet the eyes of tomorrow
and call in silence
the actions, the waves,
the tracks of the sea wind.
I remain leaning against the clouds,
my face sways, he tells you lashing words.
Blue candy floss night. I have a root in my heart.
I have roots in the mind.
I have roots that germinate blue flowers.
My face in clouds.
My space inside.
Remember the stone.
The stone in the blue sea where
I seat and think about your galaxy.
My blue eyes see your nitght flowers.
I often stay staring at the sky while I’m in the car or just when I’m walking around. I look at the sky because from there my mind opens and makes me reach the sea of ​​stars on the expanse of salty, clear water, full of star reflections. It reminds me of winter evenings, when with very few degrees I was short-sleeved on the beach taking pictures. As I looked at the immensity of the sky, I imagined people who, like me, looked at nothing like a dreamer. I imagined people looking at the stars immersed in black to return home or as they looked out on the balcony or the bedroom window with a cigarette between their lips or a steaming cup, and in taking their time to think, they lost themselves looking at the sky with eyes and heart full of anger or sadness, letting oneself be engulfed in the bubble leaving the world outside, and who knows, maybe we are all astronauts but with the fear of leaving the earth and entering the darkness of the universe among the planets and the stars.
During the day I manage not to get lost in my thoughts. I easily evade tedious issues, impending responsibilities, troubled problems. But in the evening, how the fuck is it done? What is the reason that leads us to reflect more than necessary? Why does the setting of the sun urge us to express our concerns, to accumulate our disturbances? It is late at night and, while I let myself be carried away by this inexplicable introspective flow, I have not yet found the answer.
I think that in twenty years of existence – let’s call it life, if you like – I still haven’t found half a person willing to look at me for a moment and – why not? – to look inside, and not stop outside. I have so many things inside that I don’t say, I don’t do, I don’t share with anyone because no one in my opinion can understand them as I see them. And it’s always the same story. I’m not saying I don’t love my friends. I couldn’t say it and denying it would be a lie. They are an essential part of my good mood. But I don’t know, sometimes these people seem unknown to me in spite of everything, because they don’t see things as I do, and it’s a bad thing because it means that I can’t really get to know myself probably and it makes me wonder if these people would like it. same good to another me, more personal, iridescent, perhaps crazy. I just want to be myself even more and I just can’t take so many things inside me anymore that are filtered before I speak, think, act in the company of other people. Ask me something, whatever interests you looking at my blog, I am in a moment of absolute truth.

 

HOLIDAYS IN THE WATER

Maybe not everyone will understand me, but the smell of chlorine on the hands, tired muscles, the sound of strokes, swimming and thinking at the same time, letting off steam. These are the beautiful things.
Her heart broke and over time, disappointment after pain, it hardened more and more until it turned into a stone. She was drowning and yet she knew how to swim, but no matter how hard a weight was holding her back and inexorably drawing her closer and closer to the bottom.
We swam, turning our cries into strength. We swam, never asking why. We swam, we competed, we fell and got up. A love that no one can understand.

Most men don’t want to swim before they know how to swim. Witty, right? Of course they don’t want to swim, they were born for the land, not for the water. And of course he does not intend to think: in fact they were born for life, not for thought. Yes, and those who think, those who concentrate their life in thought can go a long way, it’s true. But he traded the land for water and some moment he will drown.

I miss swimming. Swim for hours, chasing away all negative thoughts that make you sick. I miss the feeling of being free, of being myself. I miss the smell of chlorine. I miss my instructor. I want to go back to that place where I spent most of my time. I miss fighting with the cap and goggles. I miss coming home with sore arms, tired legs, and just wanting to go to bed. I need to swim to be alone. Feel the heartbeat underwater and burst into life. You can’t imagine how good I feel while swimming. Isolated from the world and I feel only my breath and the water that moves
The smell of chlorine on your skin that doesn’t go away and the inexplicable smell of when you leave the locker room and enter the pool. Prepare the bag, put on the cap and goggles, the dives, the tanks done in a few seconds to try to throw out all the anger, sadness, problems and inner emptiness. How I missed all of this, how stupid I was years ago to leave something that was only good for me. After years I have tried that wonderful feeling again and it was wonderful because the nutto is like that or you love it or you hate it. You are swimming alone, there are no other people: it is you, the water and your determination. I won’t leave you anymore, I swear.

 

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