A tender moment
Sometimes …only wills …is so great need of a hug of comfort.
Only someone back home will look, see that spark of unpaid tears in his eyes, and throw at you with open arms , and hold strong and sweeping away the anxiety.
“I was born where the rain still carries the scent Ebony A land where the cement strangles the sun not yet
Everyone said I was beautiful like the great African night And the moon shone in my eyes, I called the Black Pearl …”
Living every day, addressing the daily struggles and suffering and recovering, how can you not have an ally? A someone that you love her unconditionally, even though you come back dirty with mud and blood, paid by you or others in the name of their rights?
You cannot fight forever, or you? You can live with the weight of the world without him falling to the ground defeated, sooner or later?
Here , now in the books of my mother , fairy tales , in American comedies come out of nowhere a man whose masculinity is highlighted by tight socks ( set by the virility of these writers , eh ?) , a prince or a wonderfully blue star super sexy and adorable to revive the morale and ongoing tragedy of the protagonist .
But a story like that I would never have the character, I leave that role to others. All I want is the Authority, also to be Juliet because it gained much. It goes without saying that the sole consideration of the nurse is a priest. Fantastic. (Now that reminds me I have to reread the story, maybe a couple of stabs to the heart more than I would do badly)
Would it change anything if I were thinner? I think not. More problems would only imagine, or maybe less. I feel lonely in a crowd of acquaintances. I know Marko also mingle with them, and comply with surround passenger or at least that they are willing to give me. But I know that then I would be regurgitated in disgust… or leave me I know that is not what I seek.
You can trust? There you can trust. (I read Elio Vittorini few days ago, I was impressed by the dialogue and the slow final reflection, and I followed the story a bit ‘bad)
Why so you know that if you try, if only for a moment to extend a fragile heart to interpersonal, not so much swept away by the wind, drenched by rain dried by the sun… But more likely would land a series of poisoned arrows, some masked, others not.
So we might as well keep it close. When I tried myself, that’s what happened. Now I keep in my chest and I do not see anyone, I was crazy. It has yet to return from all attacks and violent boarding and tiles and the sink e. . . Still beats a miracle. So I stay here , thank goodness there are so many rubbish bins like this blog , where I can download all the sadness . And then the music, through music I can go on my last hold for now.
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