Sometimes I wish I could stop my brain but sometimes I’m sure that it’s not possible.
Seems like It lives for itself
wondering, flooting, flying…as a Chagall’s painting.
I wish I could get back to my 6 years old life and maybe run without flipflops through my grandma’s garden again
without excuses, only hearing sounds of birds
nothing more at all.
A few days ago I bought a bicycle from a stranger that said me ‘hi’.
Dreaming to ‘faire du velô’ among the ways of the world I looked ahead and puted a pair of headphones on
just feeling the fresh breeze on my face as a nice song could caress me softly
As in the land of Oz where I finally found something ‘somewhere over the rainbown’.
I feel like Doroty in a forest beneath giants trees that swallow me down to the shadows.
My books have a different language to others, I know. That’s why I must read some of them so many times again
Words escape from my thoughts and toughts stay to tell me secrets that I should never talk about
But silence has meanings that can explain more than ever.
Anyway my world of dreams don’t have rules
I can run off anytime for a real life even when I don’t want to wake up.
Only cowards run away from your own fantasies.
But only courageous people will stay and still remember that real life keeps turning outside.
Spread your shinning around cause sometime it will come back to you
and get shinhing again for someone else…
Nada será como antes