and carry you where it's so hot in Arabia ... and then to cold, icy snow fields ... (patti s.)
wonderful supporters!
you yes, you are my dream: when I expressed my imagination delights and projecting your beautiful faces here, all around me ... while I'm around on stage (not the internship, dear ... the stage!).
on this spring evening, I can not think of you. In fact, in recent months, days, moments, everything was cold inside and out. but with all the spring or at least something will start to sprout again ... again ... is the nature of the game that makes fun of us . and we are enchanted to see us change the springs, which scatter the world around us and ourselves, but that does not spoil the nature. because the nature of things is immutable in its cyclical course, in the absence of time the infinity of space. is an energy that is self-renewing and makes a mockery of the solar panels.
and I remember when I thought about the nature of looking at us and see us decline, gradually or all at once, our tendency to the ideal ... we lose, we lose ourselves in life rather than in death. we discover our own divinity aspiring to the ideal, and to grow both forget: divinity and perfect.
whatever that means for each, the ideal is painted in the colors which we imagined ourselves to be children, when we heard early or very late (?) That we wanted to be. events drag and define who we are, sometimes without asking any permission.
and then I see the little girl out the window dreaming and imagining. and she was poetic nature, road, sea, rail, and over the whole sky, clouds, birds and the wind ...
and suddenly I see no longer that little girl ... I look around, I've lost it, once again I've lost, I seek ... and find her.
in the mirror.
