Dear Diary (page 1)
Dear Diary,
do you remember the last time-lost-in-time when I used to write things in-on you? Lifetime(s) ago, yet just a rain of drops-days on my aged back...
I don't know exactly what to tell you, but a silent friend made of virgin paper was a recurrent idea til today. You're true, it's no paper (I still use, though: don't point your finger!), and ticking on a keyboard is not exactly what it should be; but times change, just as hearts and people, faster than ever, and an electronic sheet is suitable as well for this intent. Will it work? I don't know. Will I know more about me? I don't know. Will I remain here, staring at you just as I did with white walls for poetry, for a long while. I just-don't-know. So listen.
All of a sudden the world becomes a huge spectacular ball to my eyes. Rethoric, maybe generated by the curiosity for astronomical things of my seven year old daughter Sara.
We were in the car, on sunday. The sun already fallen, a few stars shimmering above the luminous polluted horizon. "It's not a star", I said, when she pointed at the biggest white dot. "It's Jupiter, a big planet".
She started asking many questions. Once we get home I grabbed for her the encyclopedia, solar system volume. Both emotioned, we looked for Jupiter. "What is this black dot, daddy?" "It's the shadow of one of the four main satellites, love" "And the big red thing bigger that the Earth?" "Here, look. It's a rotating tempest that will never end..."
Weeks ago (before my own personal storm) we spent a beautiful day in a mountain wood, looking for some chestnut to roast after dinner. All the girls were happy, half legs covered with humid leaves. When we had enough, while we rested and ate some bread and Nutella on a concrete's bench and table in the shady yellow atmosphere, I placed a chestnut in a nicely lit spot, for a macro shot. When focusing and framing were ok, a little happy green bug appeared, walking thoughtless on the sheer brown surface. It seemed like a stubborn astronaut, proudly exploring what must have seemed a little planet's surface ...
We all are so little, not so silently standing on this runaway train called life.
We want anything, yet we cannot.
We constantly vacillate on the edge of our dreams just like fragile dwellers, trying to look/taste/hear far more than we can.
Knowing (life on Earth is one).
Knowing not (what really lies after/outside).
Endlessly rotating around this dichotomy; endlessly, just like the big red thing on Jupiter.
Dear Diary (page 1)
Dear Diary,
do you remember the last time-lost-in-time when I used to write things in-on you? Lifetime(s) ago, yet just a rain of drops-days on my aged back...
I don't know exactly what to tell you, but a silent friend made of virgin paper was a recurrent idea til today. You're true, it's no paper (I still use, though: don't point your finger!), and ticking on a keyboard is not exactly what it should be; but times change, just as hearts and people, faster than ever, and an electronic sheet is suitable as well for this intent. Will it work? I don't know. Will I know more about me? I don't know. Will I remain here, staring at you just as I did with white walls for poetry, for a long while. I just-don't-know. So listen.
All of a sudden the world becomes a huge spectacular ball to my eyes. Rethoric, maybe generated by the curiosity for astronomical things of my seven year old daughter Sara.
We were in the car, on sunday. The sun already fallen, a few stars shimmering above the luminous polluted horizon. "It's not a star", I said, when she pointed at the biggest white dot. "It's Jupiter, a big planet".
She started asking many questions. Once we get home I grabbed for her the encyclopedia, solar system volume. Both emotioned, we looked for Jupiter. "What is this black dot, daddy?" "It's the shadow of one of the four main satellites, love" "And the big red thing bigger that the Earth?" "Here, look. It's a rotating tempest that will never end..."
Weeks ago (before my own personal storm) we spent a beautiful day in a mountain wood, looking for some chestnut to roast after dinner. All the girls were happy, half legs covered with humid leaves. When we had enough, while we rested and ate some bread and Nutella on a concrete's bench and table in the shady yellow atmosphere, I placed a chestnut in a nicely lit spot, for a macro shot. When focusing and framing were ok, a little happy green bug appeared, walking thoughtless on the sheer brown surface. It seemed like a stubborn astronaut, proudly exploring what must have seemed a little planet's surface ...
We all are so little, not so silently standing on this runaway train called life.
We want anything, yet we cannot.
We constantly vacillate on the edge of our dreams just like fragile dwellers, trying to look/taste/hear far more than we can.
Knowing (life on Earth is one).
Knowing not (what really lies after/outside).
Endlessly rotating around this dichotomy; endlessly, just like the big red thing on Jupiter.