Porto, 6th of April 2017

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Porto, 6th of April 2017

I’ve encountered the immaterial, the boreal… The soft light that gently touches the flower of the deads after so much suffering. I’ve encountered something that only belongs to those who live in Asylum. In desertion from the common senses. I’ve touched the invisible and felted it like rain drops and spring petals. And I shed a tear, only one and let it linger above Schubert and the white chrysanthemums. I let the boreal house my soul, confine it into something purer, undress it and triumph on the edge of the light for once.

Mother

 

Dear Diary,

 

 

Dear Diary

 

 

                                                                                                                      1st of August 2016

Dear Diary,

I’ve been sleeping as much as I can to avoid the reality. Lately, I avoid too many things: food, baths, clothes… everything weighs to much on me … It’s hard to walk in peace, my thoughts and feelings are in a turmoil. The simple act of breathing exhaust me so deeply. Is this another metamorphosis? Am I in a state of larvae to later become a butterfly? And why it must hurt so much? Is life an endless metamorphosis?

I want to believe that life has secretly kept a small amount of happiness for me, so I keep praying… Blessed are those who live in contentment and dammed are those who live in disquiet.