The first rays of sun after months of eternal darkness and hope, are a revelation. It is the waking life, the emergence of a new adventure. No matter how little has been done to see, I know that from now on there will always One moment more.
Sunday, January 16
Every Sunday everything closes to make way for the new that is. The bare branches are covered with snow ice that cuts with extreme would go further but that they had to stop because of age and the succession of events. Bright, however, in their cold. The sun has arrived.
Life in the North proceeds as is the curved line of a spiral round and round to go back to where it was playing, but never overlap at the point of departure. Everything turns, everything goes and returns, but not always what the weather brings us back is the same as that first led us on. Better or worse, but it will never be the same.
stumbled often in error to sit on a bench and watch people going, a metaphor for a larger waiting in which we prefer to stop to observe the life that passes in front of us, hoping to be able to recover the pieces that we have lost the path. It should perhaps instead catch up and continue. Maybe one day we might get back what we were looking for, but will be in a different circumstance. When we stop only hope to get back something we had, we only lose a billion opportunities that life presents to us in every little trifle, in countless forms. Understand it, is something I'm learning, to act accordingly, however, I need more time.
The noise of the coffee and "salt" by mocha, accompanied by its unique scent, invite me to go. I'm going to take this little piece of Italy. Moments with a different tune. It will only be a habit, but perhaps a lifetime, it is, until we understand how to put his head out and breathe new air.
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