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■ iubindu-mă, toamna
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-06-10 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | I was there, in that place where the words are sweet and the oranges even sweeter. Where freedom ran through my veins. And I am no talking about the physical one, but the one related to time, about the moments my eyes were overwhelmed by every shape, colour and everlasting heartbeat. Others love is no longer enough for me. Sensations ask for more and more new things, more diversity. You can love the sea, a rock, a hidden place on a narrow street, a book, a song, a room, a Coca-Cola glass, an article, a path, the moon, breathing fresh air, you can love yourself. You can love the deep hole that rises from underneath your feet. Outside the world. So sensible and still imbued by ice cubes. Indifferent, however caught while consuming each drop of energy on the most insignificant things. And if now I am being selfish and individualist (as the psychologists would say) is because that is how I perceived most of you if not all of you. I put my caring into the sole locations you sited yours. This is the reaction, the effect, my rainbow after the rain. But it is not enough. Never. I am seeking the place where my permanent discontent comes from. I believe that you get to know yourself when you are close to someone, when you live the moments you discover others. Still not only then. The best way to find yourself is through your life experiences and talking to your own persona. Listen to yourself and do not forget right away what you realised. And when you will know who you are, you have two chances: either be happy or lose you again and hate yourself for that. If you are on the second path, then you did not ask the right questions. Wednesday, 10 June 2009 12:40:14 AM
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