tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57810118263412367112024-02-21T02:43:15.291+10:30Temet NoscePensieri di un sognatore di verità - Thoughts of a truth dreamerAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.comBlogger718125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-6526368331177431752022-01-22T23:11:00.002+10:302022-01-24T20:13:06.951+10:30Reflection<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was a kid, I used to think grown-ups were strange, sometimes fascinating, other times boring. Looking back I realise that we adults are still children. We are just less honest about it. The same basic desires move us, just without as many of the amazing highs and lows of youth. We crave attention, although we're afraid to be at its centre. We desire to belong, so much that we will bend our thoughts and beliefs to fit somebody else's shape. We are hungry, thirsty, and tired. We crave to touch and be touched. We need to feel. We build structures on top of simple desires, mazes that hide a truth often too hard to face, as it would show us how fragile is the steadiness we hold so dearly on to, how small we are, floating in the air after dusk, sharing a fleeting shimmer as we briefly touch. And in this dance of desires, we create and find beauty, a beauty that only we humans can see, a beauty that lives and dies with us, abstract to the universe.<br /><br />Sometimes it's subtle; other times it rushes and burns. It can be gentle, it can be raw. It can be vivid and carved in memories; it can be a fading feeling you can barely grasp. It can be eternal, unwavering, or impermanent, sensitive to a breeze. It is around and within you.<br /><br />Remember the moments that defined your childhood. Extend your fingers towards the memories, barely tracing them with your skin; over the horizon, following the shape of the hills. There is beauty in the places in which you found shelter and wonder.<br /><br />Recall the names of those you hurt. And of those who hurt you; they were hurting too. There is beauty in the pain that can change the course of a river.<br /><br />Recall the grand gestures of a fool, the awkward moments you can't change, the beauty of fragility that should not carry shame. There is beauty in the fragments you gave and lost, without there being any less of yourself to give.<br /><br />Recall the smiles that bloomed in quietness, the most honest gift you made, there is beauty in all the words that you laid to rest unsaid.<br /><br />There is beauty in our connections, in the life we seed and grow, may it be from our own blood, or from the kindness of our heart.<br /><br />Don't forget, you're only human; beauty comes to be every time that you are true.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">--------</span></p><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="9c34h-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9c34h-0-0"><span data-offset-key="9c34h-0-0"><span data-text="true">Da bambino pensavo che gli </span></span><span><span data-offset-key="9c34h-1-0"><span data-text="true">adulti</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="9c34h-2-0"><span data-text="true"> fossero strani, a volte affascinanti, altre volte noiosi. Adesso mi rendo conto che noi adulti siamo ancora bambini, anche se non lo ammettiamo. Gli stessi desideri fondamentali ci muovono, seppure senza tanti dei meravigliosi alti e bassi della gioventù. Desideriamo l'attenzione degli altri, anche se abbiamo paura di esserene al centro. Vogliamo sentirti accettati, così tanto che contorciamo i nostri pensieri e le nostre convinzioni per adattarli alla forma degli altri. Siamo affamati, assetati e stanchi. Desideriamo toccare ed essere toccati. Abbiamo bisogno di sentire. Costruiamo strutture su desideri semplici, labirinti che nascondono una verità spesso troppo difficile da affrontare, perché ci mostrerebbe quanto sia fragile la fermezza a cui ci aggrappiamo così tanto, quanto siamo piccoli, fluttuando nell'aria dopo il tramonto, condividendo una scintilla fugace mentre ci tocchiamo brevemente. E in questa danza dei desideri, creiamo e troviamo la bellezza, una bellezza che solo noi umani possiamo vedere, una bellezza che vive e muore con noi, astratta per l'universo. </span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="dgbmr-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="dgbmr-0-0"><span data-offset-key="dgbmr-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="atmkv-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="atmkv-0-0"><span data-offset-key="atmkv-0-0"><span data-text="true">A volte è appena percettibile; altre volte è impetuosa e rovente. Può essere delicata o può essere ruvida. Può essere vivida, scolpita nei ricordi; può essere una sensazione sfuggente che riesci a malapena a cogliere. Può essere eterna e incrollabile o impermanente, sollevata da una brezza leggera. È intorno e dentro di te. </span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="7c4ts-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7c4ts-0-0"><span data-offset-key="7c4ts-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="e9nti-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e9nti-0-0"><span data-offset-key="e9nti-0-0"><span data-text="true">Ricorda i momenti che hanno caratterizzato la tua infanzia. Estendi le dita verso i ricordi, tracciandoli delicatamente con la pelle; oltre l'orizzonte, seguendo la forma delle colline. C'è bellezza nei luoghi in cui hai trovato riparo e meraviglia. </span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="4glcd-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="4glcd-0-0"><span data-offset-key="4glcd-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="3tccg-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3tccg-0-0"><span data-offset-key="3tccg-0-0"><span data-text="true">Ricorda i nomi di coloro che hai ferito. E i nomi di coloro che ti hanno ferito; anche loro stavano soffrendo. C'è bellezza nel dolore che può cambiare il corso di un fiume.</span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="5cgat-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5cgat-0-0"><span data-offset-key="5cgat-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="8to2e-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="8to2e-0-0"><span data-offset-key="8to2e-0-0"><span data-text="true">Ricorda i gesti grandiosi di un folle, i momenti imbarazzanti che non puoi cambiare, la bellezza della fragilità della quale non dovresti vergognarti. C'è bellezza nei frammenti che hai dato e perso, senza che ci fosse poi meno di te da dare.</span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="fogtm-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fogtm-0-0"><span data-offset-key="fogtm-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="1cm1r-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1cm1r-0-0"><span data-offset-key="1cm1r-0-0"><span data-text="true">Ricorda i sorrisi sbocciati nel silenzio, il regalo più sincero che tu abbia mai fatto; c'è bellezza in tutte le parole che hai lasciato non dette. </span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="f78n8-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="f78n8-0-0"><span data-offset-key="f78n8-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="2f47e-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2f47e-0-0"><span data-offset-key="2f47e-0-0"><span data-text="true">C'è bellezza nel nostro essere connessi, nelle vite che seminiamo e coltiviamo, sia che provengano dal nostro stesso sangue o dalla gentilezza del nostro cuore. </span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="9i60e-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9i60e-0-0"><span data-offset-key="9i60e-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="b7j6n-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b7j6n-0-0"><span data-offset-key="b7j6n-0-0"><span data-text="true">Non dimenticare, sei solo un essere umano; e generi bellezza ogni volta che sei vero.</span></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="1a56u-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1a56u-0-0"><span data-offset-key="1a56u-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="b2f8g" data-offset-key="6ptj2-0-0"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6ptj2-0-0"><span data-offset-key="6ptj2-0-0"><br data-text="true" /><br /></span></div></div>Alessandro Berardihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18181551927620383751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-39883074173269427612018-05-05T21:47:00.000+09:302018-05-05T21:47:55.167+09:30One seed in the universe<p dir="auto">We have travelled, as the world became meaning for your eyes. We have travelled, tiny seeds through the stars, specs of will on your first journey around the sun. Air, water, earth and sun have nourished you, mother's milk has guided you, while we followed your joy. With each discovery I see you bloom into the person you’re growing to be. It's so wonderful to meet you. You are the beginning and the end of my days, the overarching meaning that pervades them. I feel you expand from the deep centre in me each time I see you smile, my breath stops to see your wonder before leaving to rejoin the wind. You amaze me, your strength and determination reassure me of life’s wisdom. You move me as your gaze reaches mine. I am here to give myself to you, holding your hand as you learn to walk on your own path.<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-583991772408244772017-11-27T05:12:00.004+10:302018-02-03T09:18:27.115+10:30Steps to wisdom<p dir="auto">Data -> Interpretation -> Information -> Knowledge -> Understanding -> Wisdom</p><p dir="auto">As opposed to</p><p dir="auto">Data -> Misinterpretation -> Misinformation -> Reduced Knowledge -> Misunderstanding -> Ignorance<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-21824490981406415142017-08-09T07:30:00.001+09:302017-08-09T07:30:47.933+09:30Define consciousness?<p dir="auto">Is consciousness a self perceived reflective emergent behaviour of dynamic feedback capable information?<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-70189783525596548392017-07-28T06:17:00.003+09:302018-02-17T11:15:49.342+10:30Here is to the weird ones.<p dir="auto">Here is to the weird ones, the awkward, those who don’t quite fit. Here is to the quirky, the different, the non-conformists. Here is to the poets, the artists, the moon howlers. Here is to the hungry mad readers, the mind travellers, the daydreamers. Here is to those who feel uncomfortable, the unsatisfied, those who spill themselves on the page, raining words like relief on arid lands. Here is to the kind hearted, the quiet ones, the verbose lacking confidence. Here is to those who dwell on the details, who find universes in a grain of sand. Here is to the learners, those who open hungry eyes and eager ears to the awareness of their ignorance. Here is to the unassuming, the non-believers, the empiricists, those who need to understand. Here is to the seekers, the explorers, the unsettled. Here is to those who go farther, deeper, higher and further. Here is to those who wander in wonder, those who seek amazement, the vagrants of knowledge, the nomads of understanding. Here is to those who listen, but don’t follow, who observe, but do not partake. Here is to the wallflowers of life, here is to the beating heart in their minds. You are those who don’t fully belong to this world and therefore are compelled to change it.<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-18448495688687348062017-05-21T19:11:00.001+09:302017-05-21T19:11:10.707+09:30Each breath of a child - Ogni respiro di un bambino<p dir="auto">Each breath of a child whispers the meaning of life</p><p dir="auto">--------</p><p dir="auto">Ogni respiro di un bambino sussurra il significato della vita<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-64571424492559696522017-05-09T01:52:00.001+09:302017-05-09T01:52:25.947+09:30The gift of life you bring to our home<p dir="auto">You carry the strength of storms within you, the all encompassing reach of nature's embrace shows like a fleeting glimpse in your kind gestures. A blooming seed, you can withstand the dark ceaseless winds that would rip the tallest trees into the majestic arcs of an earth shattering fall, the roots of motherhood reaching with unbreakable grace through your slender fingers, woman and life-giver, your essence expands beyond the horizons, revealing its greatness as an ethereal impression against the sky when lighting strikes. Your visible beauty is just a projection of a greater world, an icon, a still image of a greater tale, fragment of an eternal story, and I read every word in admiration, as the vivid image of life is reflected in your deep loving eyes, a revelation of the strength that animates your gentle heart.</p><p>Thank you, my love, for the gift of life you bring to our home.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-30249111812121908162017-05-09T00:59:00.001+09:302017-05-09T00:59:12.207+09:30The tempest<p dir="auto">When the dark wind blows, even the tallest trees fall, with majestic arcs into earth-shattering sound, illusions of strenght bound forever to the ground. The northern fires' glow, a whirlwind of leaves and dark clouds from parting snow, the sky tipped over in rivers' flow, a shower of tears to fill the lightning's plough. Arms wide open, I call it to my chest, this land-cracking tempest, from which there is no rest.<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-64673170658329863892017-05-06T21:29:00.002+09:302017-05-07T22:11:36.858+09:30Yesterday the world disappeared<p dir="auto">Yesterday the world disappeared. <br>Yesterday the world became a promise. </p><p></p><p>You have been wished through the storm, I have shouted your name in silence with all the strength of my blood. Then my desire became our desire.</p><p>Our blood has danced, your blood has bloomed.</p><p>She has waited patiently, feeling you become, she has been your life essence and vessel. </p><p>She has shattered the skies for you, she has transcended her skin to make you appear.</p><p>This is not gentle. This is not a dream. This is an amazing battle, strength for existence, the will to be, to ascend and breathe. </p><p>You are beautiful. Your beauty isn't as thin as words on paper. Your beauty is not a fable whose pages can be closed to be read another time, when reality is too boring or unkind. Your beauty is real, it's flesh, bones and blood, it's a scent that washes emotions through every fragment of my being.</p><p>You are the naked truth, the sense of it all. Like a forgotten friend, you appear crossing my way, just as if to say, "I'm here, you have been looking for me. Do you remember?".</p><p>You are yours, but you are ours. You are not a stranger. I couldn't recognise you with my eyes, because I had never seen you in this form before. But my blood knows you. I hold you with confidence, your needs are my resolution, your cry is the cue for my focus and determination. I recognise you in my essence, taking care of you is my natural instinct, it's engrained in my deepest self. When I hold you, the world disappears and a new world rushes out from my heart.</p><p>You are yours, but you belong to life. I will guide you to become yourself. You will carry part of me inside of you, but you will not be me, I shall not survive death through you. </p><p>I will offer you the warmth and the will of my love, unconditionally, unceasingly. There is no contract or compromise, there is nothing anyone can do to change this.<br>I will offer you my thoughts, we will learn together, we will walk together, until you'll be able to walk faster than me.<br>I will offer you my truth, I shall learn to accept your truth, even when it frightens or hurts me. You will show me who I am, we will not need to hide from each other.</p><p>Yesterday the world disappeared.<br>Yesterday the universe was born.</p><p>Life is the most amazing battle. You will learn. The world is a wonder to explore, it will change you, it will make you bigger than ever, it will make you more humble as your vision expands. We will learn. One day I will watch you walk. </p><p>Welcome, my strong in battle, flourishing girl, my Matilda Florence. She, my Gentle Heart, and I, love you.</p><p>————</p><p><br>Ieri il mondo è scomparso. <br>Ieri il mondo è diventato una promessa.</p><p>Sei stata desiderata attraverso la tempesta, ho gridato il tuo nome in silenzio con tutta la forza del mio sangue. Poi il mio desiderio è diventato il nostro desiderio.</p><p>Il nostro sangue ha danzato, il tuo sangue è fiorito.</p><p>Lei ha aspettato pazientemente, sentendoti divenire, è stata la tua essenza vitale e vascello.</p><p>Ha frantumato i cieli per te, ha trasceso la sua pelle per farti apparire.</p><p>Questo non è delicato. Questo non è un sogno. Questa è una battaglia straordinaria, forza per esistere, la volontà di essere, ascendere e respirare.</p><p>Tu sei bellissima. La tua bellezza non è sottile come le parole su un foglio di carta. La tua bellezza non è una favola le cui pagine possono essere chiuse per essere lette in un altro momento, quando la realtà è troppo noiosa o sgradevole. La tua bellezza è reale, è carne, ossa e sangue, è un profumo che manda onde di emozioni attraverso ogni frammento del mio essere.</p><p>Tu sei la nuda verità, il senso di tutto. Come un'amica dimenticata, appari sul mio cammino, come per dire: "Sono qui, mi hai cercata. Ti ricordi?".</p><p>Tu sei tua, ma sei nostra. Non sei una sconosciuta. Non potevo riconoscerti con i miei occhi, perché non ti avevo mai vista in questa forma. Ma il mio sangue ti conosce. Ti tengo con fiducia, le tue esigenze sono la mia risoluzione, il tuo pianto è il segnale che sveglia la mia attenzione e determinazione. Ti riconosco nella mia essenza, prendermi cura di te è il mio istinto naturale, è radicato nel mio essere più profondo. Quando ti tengo, il mondo scompare e un nuovo mondo sgorga dal mio cuore.</p><p>Tu sei tua, ma appartieni alla vita. Ti guiderò a diventare te stessa. Porterai parte di me dentro di te, ma non sarai me, non sopravviverò alla morte attraverso di te.</p><p>Ti offrirò il calore e la volontà del mio amore, incondizionatamente, incessantemente. Non c'è nessun accordo o compromesso, non c'è niente che nessuno possa fare per cambiare questo fatto.<br>Ti offrirò i miei pensieri, impareremo insieme, cammineremo insieme, fino a quando sarai in grado di camminare più velocemente di me.<br>Ti offrirò la mia verità, imparerò ad accettare la tua verità, anche quando mi spaventerà o mi farà soffrire. Mi mostrerai chi sono, non dovremo nasconderci l'uno dall'altra.</p><p>Ieri il mondo è scomparso.<br>Ieri l'universo è nato.</p><p>La vita è la battaglia più sorprendente. Imparerai. Il mondo è una meraviglia da esplorare, ti cambierà, ti renderà più grande che mai, ti renderà più umile mentre la tua visione si espande. Impareremo. Un giorno ti guarderò a camminare.</p><p dir="ltr">Benvenuta, mia forte in battaglia, fiorente bambina, mia Matilda Florence. Lei, il mio Cuore Gentile ed io, ti amiamo.<br></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHxQL32zJlAI6NCedbkbqXj3UIs7DTQIzWgovlYOO-qUMYt0ZMpj-GIyoVDhEUk27NVWsx2xaIS40o97-H2N4-H2C9lvMo8MfGi6CGhgp_7lUs_U78vDsVCJXMdueB_7ejMiXlmENRYqZ/" width="3024" style="max-width: 100%;"></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-59819012088377989982017-01-21T11:54:00.003+10:302017-01-21T17:58:06.899+10:30Whenever I feel you move<p dir="auto">Whenever I feel you move, placing my hands on her belly, my smile expands like a horizon, as gentle as the opening petals of a flower. It’s as though the meaning of everything had just crossed my path, presented itself bare naked in front of me, smiled and said: “I’m here. You’ve been looking for me”. Just like that, without a fight, with no mountain to climb. It’s beautifully unsettling and I’m not prepared. But I’ve been ready for a thousand lives.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-9890191000729521842017-01-21T11:44:00.002+10:302017-01-21T11:46:34.406+10:30The unsatisfied<p dir="auto">The unsatisfied always strive to reach new heights. But without serenity there is no base to jump from, one can only fall. Or fly.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-6400366935828531262016-12-15T17:41:00.002+10:302016-12-15T21:38:54.246+10:3015/12/2016<p dir="auto">Donavi risate e gioia, abbattevi muri per aprire orizzonti alla gente, panorami in cui potessero rilassarsi dal contratto sociale e dalle piccole paure nello specchio. Sempre elegante nella tua sincerità, umile nella tua signorilità, e così semplicemente aperto a donarti nel gioco, a donare sorrisi, a donare te stesso, fino a donarti a qualcosa di più grande, fino a scordarti di te, fino a scomparire all'improvviso nell'ultimo viaggio. Forse non ti sei mai trovato davvero perché ancora non ti eri perso del tutto. Il tuo ultimo viaggio è arrivato troppo presto per me, troppo presto per camminare ancora a fianco verso noi stessi, per raccontarci la vita. Ma la vita me l'hai donata comunque ed io vivo perché tu hai vissuto davvero. Un'altra anno, un altro addio, padre caro.</p><p></p><p>--------</p><p dir="ltr">You gave laughter and joy, brought down walls to open horizons to people, landscapes where they could relax from the social contract and from the small fears in the mirror. Always elegant in your sincerity, humble in your nobility, and so simply open to give yourself to playfulness, to give smiles, to donate yourself, to give yourself to something bigger, until you forgot about yourself, you disappeared suddenly on the last journey. Maybe you never really found yourself because you had never truly lost yourself. Your last journey came too early for me, too early for us to walk next to each other towards our own selves some more, to tell each other about life. But life is what you've given me anyway and I live because you have really lived. Another year, another good-bye, dear father.<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-4055175013418190602016-05-26T08:13:00.001+09:302016-05-26T08:13:11.400+09:30 Complex solutions to complex problems<p>Applying complex solutions to complex problems is like taming fire with <br>wood. You may succeed, but you'll have a bigger fire next time.<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-21554768299715434932016-05-24T13:09:00.001+09:302016-05-24T13:09:06.501+09:30The common solution<p>Evolution is hindered by thoughtlessly choosing the common solution (easiest) without thinking about the best one (simplest).<br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-32019064391781538972016-04-27T21:21:00.001+09:302016-04-27T21:21:53.509+09:30A trace of artSome of us are partially unborn, by a part, a fragment, a silhouette half way out of the world's threshold, whose eye glances at our lives from a slit, with a unique focus, a different agreement of colours and shadows, a keen yearning for the essence of the images it steals. Thus a need simmers in our blood, heating up the walls of our thoughts, bringing our emotions to a boil, and in the bubbling confusion our unborn self pierces the skin of existence, sometimes manifesting itself through unconventional means, surprising paths, pouring through any free stream it can, to reach and leave its mark on the world it so longs to touch. And so a trace of art is made.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-81686628539142673812016-03-04T11:38:00.001+10:302016-03-04T11:38:02.353+10:30LawsLaws are written to accomodate the vast majority, but if they were to be interpreted with close minded logic, instead of the full rationality of a human being's life, judges would be machines.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-21235947437175332292016-02-24T06:53:00.001+10:302016-02-24T06:53:55.790+10:30DiplomacyBad diplomacy offers lies, good diplomacy offers truth with perspective.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-56383068060484244422016-02-21T09:32:00.000+10:302016-02-21T09:32:12.240+10:30Il respiro dell'anima - The breath of our soulSe l'aria che ci danza intorno è l'anima del nostro respiro, allora il vento deve essere il respiro della nostra anima. Nel vento il seme dei nostri pensieri viaggia per depositarsi ovunque nel mondo, e conoscere e sfiorare paesi e persone, profumi di ricordi, melodie di emozioni, visioni di speranza. Siamo universi, mondi nel mondo, la nostra bellezza ha una fonte infinita che affonda le sue radici in ricordi più antichi di noi.<br />
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<br />If the air that dances around us is the soul of our breath, then the wind must be the breath of our soul. In the wind the seeds of our thoughts travel to settle anywhere in the world, and learn about and graze at countries and people, scents of memories, melodies of emotions, visions of hope. We are universes, worlds in the world, our beauty has an infinite source that has its roots in memories which are older than us.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-61774381592310610732016-01-02T23:02:00.001+10:302016-01-02T23:02:28.593+10:30A fragmentA sense of desolation, an expectation. Nobody is watching, though a part of her nearly outside of the picture wish they were. She walks out on the driveway, early teens. Looking up at the sky, slows down time. I don't want to forget the stars, she thinks, when I start looking straight I'll have grown up.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-15603786784197121582015-12-19T11:15:00.001+10:302015-12-19T11:15:22.826+10:30The green auroraTwo sinuous lines of steps in the bright night snow growing shallower as they get closer to one another. And you, just like a new memory, can see, the two identical twins, calmly walking to meet, reflected mirrors, they join their hands, embrace, kiss passionately, but you know there is something fraternal in that gesture, a ritual, something that must be. With their feet above the ground, lifting to become that wonderful green aurora.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-44317758067347645622015-12-15T20:43:00.001+10:302015-12-15T20:43:33.328+10:30Ali del padreEra un volo d'ali gentili che riempiva le stanze dell'anima e faceva inchinare i muri della paura quel sorriso grande fino agli occhi di un padre cresciuto forse troppo in fretta. Grazie della passione intelligente, della perseveranza e della pazienza, della comprensione e della reciproca ammirazione. 11 anni di ricordi rimasti. Grazie dell'amore sincero.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-46678485019960752362015-10-31T00:20:00.001+10:302015-10-31T00:20:59.893+10:30A subtle drawing forceThere is a subtle drawing force, it slips through the nuances and crevasses of time to quench their hidden thirst, and as it flows and pulls, reflections of a thousand unborn possibilities glitter for a fraction of an instant, just long enough for your inner eyes to see the frame and let your soul be shaken, just a bit, like a current, a glitch, a mistake, a fracture in the habit.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-39476929577487534522015-10-27T09:57:00.001+10:302015-10-27T09:57:07.019+10:30Col tempo s'acquieta il mare - With time the sea finds calmness<div>Col tempo s'acquieta il mare e s'apre lo specchio al sole, che la vita, ricca sotto le correnti, del suo calor si nutre. E viva si rinnova in cicliche danze di storie che s'incontrano, immagini variopinte che s'espandono e contraggono al reciproco passaggio, una bellezza di dettagli in movimento, pennellate di un più gran disegno. Ti auguro di rivelare questa bellezza nella tua eterna giovinezza, che la pace non è noia, ma la saggezza di trovar meraviglia senza perdere l'equilibrio.</div><div><br></div><div>--------</div><div><br></div><div>With time the sea finds calmness and opens its mirror to the sun, for life, rich under the currents, is nourished by its warmth. And it’s reborn, alive, in cyclical dances of meeting stories, colourful images that expand and contract to their mutual passage, a beauty of moving details, brush strokes of a greater picture. I wish for you to reveal this beauty in your eternal youth, for peace is not boredom, but the wisdom of finding wonder without losing balance. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-88370327216289100872015-05-21T03:12:00.001+09:302015-05-21T03:12:06.194+09:30Nella gentilezza di chi ci ama lasciamo un frammento - In the kindness of those who love us we leave a fragmentNella gentilezza di chi ci ama lasciamo un frammento, un ricordo celato,
un'impronta nel vento, così il nostro cuore trova la via di casa,
seguendo le orme dei ricordi, per riflettersi nel mondo, per ritrovarsi
nel tempo.<br />
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In the kindness of those who love us we leave a fragment, a hidden memory, an impression in the wind, so that our heart may find the way home, following the footsteps of memories, to reflect itself in the world, to find itself in the flow of time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781011826341236711.post-57159725858101145982015-03-15T01:09:00.001+10:302015-03-15T01:09:02.996+10:30Willow's leavesThere is a deepness in the subtle motion of a willow's leaves caressed by gentle wind. Whispers of tales from the inner consciousness of fragile hearts. A sadness that finds redemption and turns to peace. A quietness for thoughts, a shaded place for the soul.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02827747349868169555noreply@blogger.com0