вторник, 22 май 2012 г. § 0
I knew a man that was brave and strong in his opinion and in his deeds and in his posture and in his decisions and in his mind. And he became pale before the sight of a small woman. A woman that reached his arm but not above. A woman that was not even still a woman, but more a girl in her young years. And his eyes would become distant and blurry and his body would shriek in convulsions beyound his control and his knowledge and his truths and his past and his strength and his trust in himself would chuckle along with the body. And an infinite sadness would inundate him entirely and would ruin his integrity, would flood him with its coughs and sighs and would turn him into a silent desert.
And I was a desert as well. They would ask me how I feel. And felt good. From time to time. And sometimes I was not good. And at times I did not feel at all. At those times I was a desert. Shere. Yeallow. Silent. As if my entire being was a desert. And in the middle of it there was a volcano. And the volcano was constantly errupting in the centre of it all. And sometimes I felt I want to kneel down at the centre of a giant circle, a square of grey pavement with nobody on it. And within this grey square I would bent and leap. And I would cry until all the water inside me come out and I have water no more. And sometimes I felt as if I was about to dissolve. And the peaces that were keeping my body together would part and vanish as dust.
But these were momentary thoughts and even if they visited me often in those days I went on and felt good. Worse could always come, so count your blessings, my dear.
