I am preparing a post about Mel Gibson's Apocalypto, but now I'm doing as I work and because I have not had time to finish ( and started, and put the title on apocalypto , lol).
At the moment I would like to share something that came out of me in one of those moments when melancholy comes over me and I take; because in that moment my heart pump blood well, I'm also pumped words that seem to make some sense (at least for me).
Forms of your being
Drawing: http://www.siporcuba.it/cc-qua-sandra.htm
I know about this great and deep feeling that sometimes makes me dizzy. I do not intend to talk about my wrongs, I just want you to look inside myself. I know your face, just imagine it. I have not heard your voice, only imagine. Not what I would do if he had no imagination. Maybe not love, do not see, do not listen. You're part of me because of me you're born. You're born to see the world. This world is full of oddities. You turn, you know all sorts of people, you will all sorts of places; 've swum in the ocean, how deep is it?;'ve flown on top of the sky, how far is it? But back to me, but you make it beautiful and fair than when you left. I would like to give shape to touch you, caress your face. I would like to give voice to listen to your words, and come to the place of your birth, and establish a connection between reality and imagination. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you how beautiful you look. Could hold you, feel you, smell you, admire you, love you. What do you do like it did back in? I do not know. I only know that when I get to supplement my life. Keep waiting to come back to form, with voice, with a look that caught me and took me to where only you can do it. I know you will. I will keep fighting to overcome the fear that someday wither the place you saw the birth many times.
3/May/06
Guatsa Steppenwolf
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