Dear Diary (page 7)
Dear Diary,
23/03/10.
23+3+10=36.
6+3=9
Wanna hear something funny?
I don't remember my dreams so often. But the one lived last night deserves to be mentioned. It shouldn't, 'cause it's not for anyone, but soon it will be submerged under the tumultuous waves of the stream.
It was a dark sleeptime, before she came. The room was sunlit (or lit by very strong alogen lamps), me and her sitting on a comfortable sofa, surrounded by family people (my wife, my daughters, her mom and brother and sisters and kids). Our arms - my right and her left - were so tightly near, so tight to render a feeling of being siamese twins or, at least, of something we couldn't let go anymore. There was deep shyness in both of us, yet nothing compared to the magnetic force that was keeping us close, toothy smiles and giggles. The familiar faces were staring at us all smiles and giggles too, like in a countryside party with multicoloured balloons and silly music in the air.
When the first kiss started, grazing and light, an electric current passed through our lips straight to the core of us, giving the very same pace to our hearts, soundtrack of a long ago long awaited and expected. Then another kiss began, longer, and a bit deeper. And our common memory suddenly knew, our past life anew and blooming, in all its colours and smells and sounds, in a few seconds of tongue touch.
All around religious silence: people were disappeared.
Eyes touch. Glittering pupils. Intimate contact, sweet and natural just like light spring rain upon freshly opened flowers. Completeness. Happiness. The final, desired rejunction.
But dreams are made of mental crossroads, they don't last like we would like to...
Separated. Again. One east one west, at the speed of thoughts.
I'm in my own apartment, and my family surrounds me, smiling. It's summer. My wife says you were true, Lu, you're made to stay together, she's too nice and together you form a perfect couple, go stay with her; my daughters jumping and chirpling she's nice she's nice she's nice!...
Dear Diary, nevermind. It's just a damned dream.
Dear Diary (page 7)
Dear Diary,
23/03/10.
23+3+10=36.
6+3=9
Wanna hear something funny?
I don't remember my dreams so often. But the one lived last night deserves to be mentioned. It shouldn't, 'cause it's not for anyone, but soon it will be submerged under the tumultuous waves of the stream.
It was a dark sleeptime, before she came. The room was sunlit (or lit by very strong alogen lamps), me and her sitting on a comfortable sofa, surrounded by family people (my wife, my daughters, her mom and brother and sisters and kids). Our arms - my right and her left - were so tightly near, so tight to render a feeling of being siamese twins or, at least, of something we couldn't let go anymore. There was deep shyness in both of us, yet nothing compared to the magnetic force that was keeping us close, toothy smiles and giggles. The familiar faces were staring at us all smiles and giggles too, like in a countryside party with multicoloured balloons and silly music in the air.
When the first kiss started, grazing and light, an electric current passed through our lips straight to the core of us, giving the very same pace to our hearts, soundtrack of a long ago long awaited and expected. Then another kiss began, longer, and a bit deeper. And our common memory suddenly knew, our past life anew and blooming, in all its colours and smells and sounds, in a few seconds of tongue touch.
All around religious silence: people were disappeared.
Eyes touch. Glittering pupils. Intimate contact, sweet and natural just like light spring rain upon freshly opened flowers. Completeness. Happiness. The final, desired rejunction.
But dreams are made of mental crossroads, they don't last like we would like to...
Separated. Again. One east one west, at the speed of thoughts.
I'm in my own apartment, and my family surrounds me, smiling. It's summer. My wife says you were true, Lu, you're made to stay together, she's too nice and together you form a perfect couple, go stay with her; my daughters jumping and chirpling she's nice she's nice she's nice!...
Dear Diary, nevermind. It's just a damned dream.