Slow breathing began to keep time I stood up and looked. He was always there, between my lips and my thoughts that I asked to speak and tormented me with his questions. He wanted to know. But there were been too many things, there were all those years ago. Years filled with thousands of faces of people I had gone ahead, leaving most of the time only a rather fuzzy image, a word I do not remember, maybe perfume, an odor. And then the names. Than if they had come and gone, had crossed the agendas and memory and most of the time they had raised more than a moment or never fulfilled the promise to meet again once more.
All those years it had been spread on the skin part of the invisible thought that changes, slowly and inexorably. Years, day after day they moved the pawns in a game indecipherable, distorted and bent trenches of the fears and taboos. I felt like Janus, able to see things from every point of view and be able to justify both the good and evil, but also able to give an alibi for my every mistake.
It was now to review all my faults, without stopping in front of mirrors deceptive hypocrisy, stating all errors, cut your hands off
missed opportunities and the latest outbreaks of the desire for love.
It was now to review all my faults, without stopping in front of mirrors deceptive hypocrisy, stating all errors, cut your hands off
missed opportunities and the latest outbreaks of the desire for love.
Steps to take to get to the end of my life I could count them with a good approximation over the timing of the kitchen was one of those calendars with the number of days written in red and I remember they used to school every day the teacher instructed some of us going to tear the sheet of thin paper, almost a tissue, to find a new day. A gesture of no importance, I never thought of finding sedimented under millions of thoughts, but continues to perpetuate over time, relentlessly, digging beneath the consciousness, leaving only scars.
I sat there on that stone from the mountain peak that dominated everything for many hours, with the desire to see everything collapse into a black hole. Behind me stood a sanctuary dedicated to Our Lady, one of the many shrines resting on top of long climbs, as if it were not painful enough to have to pray there was the need to climb up here to do it.
I did not need to pray, and do not think I have ever had the desire. I never believed in anything that was not something tangible. The rest thought that they were not even touched me ....
(...) CONTINUE ...