For those who are wondering if it: no, I'm not dead or gone from the web.
It 's a pregnant this period, a time when I run out of breath and, in those few moments are so tired you do not even have the strength to write everything I want. The mind is
proliferation, but the hand does not cooperate.
I must say that 2009 has started well in terms of inspiration, but that's another story.
Before we start the real reason of this post, let me turn briefly to the communications service: Butterfly Wings is temporarily down. I still can not understand why, but it does not matter, since some time I had in mind to make changes to my personal archive and I think this is the appropriate time to do it, finally. So to all those who are interested, or have the site linked somewhere, I report it here soon to the new address of my store staff, as well as the link does not lead to a notice of a malfunction.
Another point: if you are looking for me, because ultimately they are hardly online on msn, I say that my skype contact is almost always online, even when I'm not the PC, so if you want to leave me a msg, go ahead, sooner or later I will read and answer XD
But let us.
was already a few days I had in mind to put a new post here, and many were the thoughts that turned me on the head, those few that was really worth writing, some too personal. Then today it happened: I met a person, a person who had not seen for a while ', but with which, however, does not speak for some time.
Years have passed, much of that time which is almost half my life, but nevertheless we are still here, the starting point. There was a brief period when I thought everything would return as it was, or at least, something that could unlock, giving rise to a slow climb toward a lost friendship. But it was not so.
Today, after many years now, I found myself thinking about how much everything has been stopped and locked, like an old snapshot in black and white worn by time.
I believe in Karma, I think strongly that what we do in life echoes in eternity ... and in the next life I will find myself having to do with all that is left over in this ... and things are many.
I was thinking a thousand things to write you this evening, a thousand things I wanted to say but you are swept away by the wind as vaporisation, and this evening are hours that I look at this blank page, unable to find any words that were embedded so poetic first ... It 's a bit as if they had all coagulated in a suffocating tangle, I can not sgrovigliare.
In good old times, remember my friend Moon Was
so bright and so close to us, "Sometimes
It 's a bit like being in a labririnto which you can not find the exit, and continue to walk and walk, without ever, without meeting, touching only, passing side by side without finding the key to the problem.
Years have passed, another life almost.
We were still blind and deaf, what a bliss?
Painting the World of Our Own, for Our own eyes, now?
Why do I feel like I was the executioner, as if I were I the author of everything? Why, I wonder?
It 's a horrible feeling, a feeling that I do not want to try. I do not know enough to know you not? Or perhaps you've forgotten it all? Have you ever wondered how things are going really? You never come the desire to explain, you know.
to me. Many times I wanted to make a direct comparison. It was not I a bad situation, perhaps proud, for sure damn naive and shy-they are today, some things never change. I'm
writing at random, without rhyme or reason, this post does not remotely look that I wanted, the clarity of dialogue that I had figured in his mind as he thought. I would like to remove everything with a clean slate! Yet clearly reflects my confusion.
Confusion ... is one that has always dominated this whole story ... and will always dominate.
I wish one day, even between years, we could really explain. But I know that will not happen.
Can We Ever Have We had then what? Friendship unbreakable
My life goes on and is happy, this is not the problem, but in one corner of the mind is the irritation and displeasure believed to be an advocate for something that I would not. Never. Something you
annoderà increasingly on itself.
So I will be only one way to exorcise all this: write. Write and hope that eternity will be better that the moment of the day.
so I leave this post: strange and incomprehensible as they are incomprehensible to me this evening.
I leave with one addition ...
