2nd of November 2016
my skin is thirsty for rain, the linger rain that fulfill a whole day without regrets, that comes calmly as Schumann and late as Chopin’s melancholic Nocturnes.
The rain that transforms every wistful sorrow into a musing autumnal feeling. My unquiet life should had been full of quietness from the beginning… but, I was born to be bounded to the ephemeral: to be nothing more than a fading silhouette on your foresight.
8th August 2016
I walk alone into a romantic garden where once lovers met, where once someone cried, where once writers wrote meaningful poems to their nymphs and muses… I walk alone into a garden to discover that all of the beautiful things are fragile and soon, to be dead: to become a gentle dust that settles peacefully.
In this garden, everything seems so acoustic and similar to an Andrei Tarkovsky’s movie. Everything reverberates nostalgia and poetry. I walk alone because there is nobody besides me. I walk alone to become one, to find myself in the fragility of this dual world.
Someone once asked me: “Where do you find contentment when everything fails? I answered: In nature, in all the elevated forms of art and in spirituality.”
I’ve found this defragment butterfly on the pavement, I’ve collected her body and wings… Is this the beginning or the end of life?
I buried her body in my balcony flowers, something so beautiful deserves to return to an immaculate place where life begins and ends… But I don’t believe in endings, I believe in transformations – endless metamorphoses that will lead us to a higher place.
I kept her wings with me because they were so beautiful, they made me feel close to heaven and made me believe that there is a magical place beyond this reality…
I will find a sacred place in my house where I can rest her wings in peace… Maybe, a little box made of glass, so I can gaze at it with adoration.