Name Of Dog Off Land Any Tramp

Arimo

guess I need to rest a little, wait for my body wants to resume the walk. I think I have to do the cleaning in my skull, peeling and defrosted the old thoughts, to make room for new things. I think I might stop for a bit 'and let it run a few things. Basically I can not be in certain places, not to see certain things not to do. I can imagine how convalescent: lots of rest and light fare. There is always work that takes a lot, but I could pretend it's some kind of rehabilitation therapy, to keep in place the joints. Only that there would like a place, a book and weather appropriate. Or maybe a dog to run after a stick. A daily walk in a place known but always different, like a forest or a sea. I'll be ready to go when I tell him my dreams, when sleep will not live as awake. When the stories of the rest will be in strong colors, with no rules or players as if they were told by an external voice that I do not know. When the morning, once awake, I can go back to congratulate myself for my fantasies, instead of analyzing and chide my faults unbridgeable.


photo: Martesana Naviglio, Milan, February 6, 2011

Transitions Easyworship

Fear

Why we never speak of fear? In the background is the fear that drives our lives. Indeed, the fear, one in particular, the inevitable, without a name, that certain. Controls us and forces us to highlight the time, or enjoy it pushes us towards religions or distances us from them. We are floating in the water that runs into the hole in the sink drain, you see? That 's what. When I realized that it was true, that is all true, I took the panic and began to scream in despair, I was about 12 years and I had just seen the opening scenes of "The Wild Geese". In the film, the group enters into a barracks and kills with a gas dei militari nel sonno. Mi prese la follia pensando a quei tizi che si erano addormentati pianificando cosa fare domani, alle cose rimandare, a quelle che sarebbero venute, invece... Confesso che a volte la vertigine del panico mi prende ancora, nella notte quando esco da qualche incubo che non riesco mai a ricordare. Tutta colpa dello stress, si dice. E prima o poi riuscirò a strappare in due il cuscino con le mani! In questi casi, dopo la tachicardia c’è solo l’invidia, per chi è certo di non essere solo piccolo istante nel nulla, di non essere fatti della stessa materia di cui è fatto il pensiero, della stessa inesistenza di un lampo di luce. Quando spengo il computer tutto ciò che c’è nella sua memoria scompare nel nothing.


photo: Palasharp Milan, 5 February 2011 ('m here )