End of May and you are still faraway

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                                                           Thursday, 25th of May 2017

Dear Diary,

There is something comforting about taking my socks off, resting my feet on the grass, and emptying my mind from my own howling thoughts… It’s magical permitting myself to feel the abandonment, the freedom from my personality, my middling interests and existing as an improvised tree. There is something magical about don’t move, don’t think, don’t speak. Something magnanimous about being and sparkle the warm-cold light of the dusk…  There is something perpetual about my feet against the fuzzy grass that exhale the demons out of my body skin. //End of May and you are still faraway.//

Sewing the holes

It’s April 2017 is being, even more, weird than the past 2016 year. I don’t know what to say… April did go really fast for me, did the same happen with you? I thought that I would enjoy deeply every day of this year, and, on the contrary, what I really feel is that everything is slipping through my fingers, speeding up in a way that I can’t even describe what have happen this year, it seems life is just happening in a numb manner … but maybe the antidote for all these emotions flowing through my skin is to do something…

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So, in these two days off from work, I decided to pick up all my clothes that were unstitched in some particular spot and had fixed them. At the end, the constant anxiety about life, my bloody worries, all the emotions that I constantly feel, and that can only be translated into more worrying, were gone. I felt that my anxiety was placed with the satisfying feeling of accomplishment.

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These small acts of dedication and commitment to something are a good way to find peace, meditate while we are passing the threads trough the clothes fabrics and, a way to respect the environment, because while we fix a piece of cloth — we know that we are reducing the clothing waste, we become aware what we have inside of our wardrobe and we are being productive. Summerly, I hope this post inspires you to do the same and find quietness in your life which is the most imperative.
Warmly,
Isa.

 

Saturday, 18 of February of 2017

Light is attempting to fade discreetly but is still noon, only 5 o’clock, so why start to fade in such rush?
The night is still so distant from this particular hour, from my notion of time, and as I conjecture about the invention of life, my tea is blowing away a gentle a cloud of steam that blurs the present. But I am not thinking of the past, I am feeling it instead: I am smelling the scent of random moments like a true nostalgic soul. 

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It’s all so intensely real and everything starts with me breaking my mother’s womb, taking my first handful breath of fresh air, a disperse sun glance over my pale skin and my enormous brown eyes gazing into this new world. In all of these memories, I don’t regret the first steps that I dared to take, I just regret the way that I/we end up living — chained to a material world that doesn’t truly exist.

The 2017 Inventarium

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I called my visualizing list where I project my future — Inventarium. Every new year, for me, is a new opportunity for renovating my hopes and dreams. So my longings begin in wanting to cherish life and myself more. I want to become more lighter/pure, I want to believe that I am able, I want to congratulate myself instead of finding mistakes in every step that I take. I want to fulfill my existence with faith instead of disbelief — due to this reason, I will write the many lists as I can and I will force myself to reread them — over and over again — until I come to believe that all these griefs were just a metamorphosis: a prologue for the better days. 

Thursday, 22nd of December 2016

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I will end my writings for this year today. 2016 was a strange year, I changed few times of job, plans, directions and, at the end, I still feel a bit frustrated… When I was a child I used to imagine myself when I would be a grown up… I did see a calm and trustful woman.

I thought a lot in these things when I was very young and did I turned out like I was expecting? Well, I think I am still faraway for that vision, but 17 is my number and this new year happens to be the 2017, so I hope things change; I have been preparing myself slowly for these happenings: I will have to let go past, some dear humans, regrets and fears. And I am ready for the trade, we cannot have all at once, in order to achieve something we must be ready to trade or to convert the present into something higher. I just want to say thanks to 2016, I’ve purge tuns of understandings that were living inside of me and I felt illuminated for little moments throughout these times. The epiphany of this year would be: we all are worth of the best and only the best, so please stop diving into unhappy persons and situations because that will only bring you more suffering, understand for once that you, and you alone, are worthy of all the goodness in this life. Wishing you all a happy xmas and a happy new year.

The Castles in the Air

Thursday, 17th of November 2016 

Dear Diary,

Amidst the eternity of the unspoken words: here, where life meets an end, I am still much alive, Sir. My beloved, I’ve been burning in this waiting, hoping that a glow of reliance would blush this death lips. Hoping for this perplex world of mine, that lingers behind my eyes, materialize — madly believing, Sir. So please, let me bloom once more, but this time by your side… Let us bloom here, where sorrow does’t numb the days and let us reach that distant place. Let it happen: between the silent trees; let her come: the slender light that shall dim the bittersweet taste in our mouths. Here, where the humanity core dwells, we shall reach the right latitude of the castles in the air. 

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Rain

Saturday, 23th of October 2016

Dear Diary,

while the rain falls, a curtain of tears blurs the distant landscape: are the skies washing away the sorrows of this world? The howling wind makes all the trees dance, a thunder grumbles hight and in my hands I’m just holding a tea. I feel safe behind of this pear-lace window and in my heart I just wish that life was only this moment.

 

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Poems from Marianne Moore and Elisabeth Bishop

Words started to fall and shaping an affable nest in my hands. Pages immersed and become profound as a forest. A deer woke up and cautiously march until reach a niche of my bare skin to kindly caress it.

My Life is made of unexpected consonances that make me smile once in a while. Sometimes, words are stollen from me and, ever and again, restituted. Thank you Flaneur for this precious gift.

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The Enclosed Garden

11th of September 2016

 We hold in ourselves a suspend place called the enclosed garden. Is fairness is made of sparkling roses, gentle moss and elegant little ivies. Our soul knows keenly this place, full enchantments, because every time she faces a war, it is here that she returns to revive. Mine has been there for a while: bathing in roses, eating the magic from starlights — healing. Now, she breathes profoundly, she is genuine and pure again. She is not covered with the mantel of fears that we all wear. She let it fall into the floor to become moss, and than earth.  She wears now a translucent dress made of hope, mercy and crystalline grace.