It 's a point, a small dot that expands faster than I can not rationalize.

It is a moment, a magical moment in which everything changes: the emotional wants its part in this story and in a moment I find myself walking down the street, kidnapped by a dream.

I try to bring attention to the sound of my footsteps on the pavement. It is not enough, then listen to the breath, bring him down, I look at my hands ...

Here I am damn, here, not there. But it's hard.

The emotional is bored and wants to play. But I know from experience that escapes from the hands then all too quickly, the claim to govern emotion released even seems absurd.

I'll be back with my mind at present, the here and now.

It's just a dream, I say, do not run after him, it makes no sense.

But my heart is swollen and he wanted to laugh.

How is it that in the end it all comes down always and only to a duty?

Earn a salary, gray-and interact with so many people off, and then do the same things, every day equal to themselves.

But why not take a moment to rest? A small symbolic holiday? Why not treat yourself to a daydream and gaze rests on nothing more than all the window panes and rain down copious?

Just one moment, only a moment, then close it and not think about it anymore.

Yeah, sounds like "just one more cigarette and then." Imagine!

Night falls. The day is gone, another page of my life over, forever.

The dark covers me and I can finally turn off the light and hope to get some sleep '.

The night is hot and I will lay upon him like a mantle of black cloth. What silence!

Now I'm going to sleep I lose the will to remain firmly anchored to the present, to reason, from what I have and I should not be, what is right and what is not.

I close my eyes and my mind has already flown away.

He runs into a boundless space beyond the limits of the possible runs toward a desire to the joyful innocence and cares about the consequences.

But in the middle of the night awakening is abrupt and seems sandpaper on the skin.

Tell me that this does not happen to you ...

The world is made of daydreams.

Unfortunately, very often come true those facts of anger, resentment, fear.

The desires that come from the heart, as bright and joyful as it is likely to remain unfulfilled prayers carved on a piece of cloth left in the sun to fade ...

Steps on the shoreline, footprints washed and polished by the first wave of the morning.

Related articles:

• Traces of Perfume. It 's like flying in fog - By Valeria
• Traces of Perfume: The time is now - by Valeria
• Traces of Perfume. In my hands rose petals - By Valeria
• Traces of perfume. Retrieve the view - by Valeria

Tags: awareness , fear , fear of living , Perfume , dreams , sleep

Article published by Valeria on 12/07/2009 at 2:59 am in the category Articles , Traces of Perfume . You can check out the comments to this entry through the feed RSS 2.0 . You can leave a response , or trackback a call from your own site.