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.
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.
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.
Thursday, 17th of November 2016
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.
When I washed my face today, flowers start to fall as they were tears…I realized that my grieve had become a bush of flowers, and I was no longer sad, because someone inside of me had turn my heart into a fair bloomed lily.