In A Piece of the World

"In the night and in the morning, I've a million of ideas to writing. Sometimes, when I arrives to think about the sentiments of the people, I find the way to understand them. Only the fears and desires, without think in the stories of me. Only, the place in the world that they occupy.  The space unknowing before death. Hopes, hidden moments and thinks that for a reason, they have me in tales. However, as I said in the past, may be in another language, the weeks arrive to write lines to simply describe one of the moments, a "demi" reason to try to understand.

Winter helps a little to listen better the voices. They are the book fo some "souls". In the mountains, we can observe the snow and the cold and in the eyes of the people, the lost and actual loves. Then, I remember that in the time in an exposition, a phrase said that the old loves and minutes are not recoverable. Just, they just passed and in its injustice, we are a shadow of oblivion. Yes, without explanation. May be for this reason is important to play in the snow and in the wind, always looking for a laugh. Looking the right moment, which is definitively forget all reasons and all names. The lips and breasts, the prohibitions and longings, to find a new fear and desires. The hope. The humanity inside the lungs. The breath.

Times are strange. But the people is simple, in the end. Our lectures are complicated, may be in the past the people write about the deep analysis of the world, but, men search pleasure and auto-safety, women search pleasure and assurance. Hard words in these times (in all times too), but the opportunity to be someone else with another is more easy than to try to be the history different. Tussle with the present time and write other stories. The stories that always the people reads and remember in the time, the love story to understand. It is more easy to stay, a little, more for some woman that for man, and start again in other way, with the other. And it is good. Dynamic, revitalizing, very human.

Is the afternoon here. In a piece of the world. The personal moment to think about the simplicity to live and feel of the others starting to be a personal question. Same if the lines are in first person. The need to be good is very simple. Is better than waiting the sublime of the dreams. As a spectacular ray of light, the sublime appears in the moment, and only, same in the obscure piece, one who is not afraid, he/she lives and feels it, and enjoy it moves over. Nature of the real pleasure. And sometimes, he/she can repeat it the times that it want.

Falling snow in the mountains. There are not more voices. The book of souls is closed. The real sound of the civilisation makes that other questions arrives and the personal choice interrupt all words. The "demi" reason remains in the head and more that a questions makes this discussion very self. Times are strange but the human questions are simple, in the end. Although it is difficult to us to recognize the simplicity of these things."