Serviette Folding Book

The look of the feet

The toes stuck. Unroll my socks faded. I look straight in front of me. The blank white wall that looks like a Swiss watch stories and images unfold before her. Some black spots there on the edges indicate their age, no longer young. His head falls to my feet now finally breathe the light while sprawled in front of the infinite space. My walks are getting longer. My goals ever remote. Now here in my childhood bedroom watching in amazement my suitcase too exhausted. Also experienced a thousand trips, of infinite languages, excessive odors. Looks sprinkled with centuries that question my world. Outerspace, new geometries, altered vision. The tremors of a thousand places resound in my head without goal, without any home. Crossed by the din of the centuries that run, the people that chase, the dance crowds of the revolution of the Earth. Two years since returning. Two years away. Two years out. Two years walking here and there. Two years running away, running away in search of something. Maybe my eyes. At 12.00 am I get up shooting from my childhood bedroom, while around me seems to be changed nothing, two, four or ten years. I went home, woke up from a night of travel. I go out, walk up surrounded by the sun and the freshness of spring, the faces of this land, from the greetings of the same, those who view me from growing, the world was still here, still had the fruit in the house, holding the newspaper, without The square where the elderly gentlemen seated at benches, without the association fighters, holding the bar of the course, without the midweek market, without the guys who take the train to school. I am heartened to find everything in place, I can reassure the save something, I could find when I was upset here in my womb. The angular lines of the old farmers. In the rough road. Through the center and look ecstatic, perhaps for the first time I admire the wonderful times, wonderful palaces, hot chianche, the medieval lanes, the stone walls of the campaign fills my soul, the huge expanses of land, prickly pears, olive trees, daisies in bloom. And the adage in bicycle path between the dirt roads. Here is my journey, here's my goal, here's what I tried running away from something, here are my eyes, my new eyes. My new earth. Only now do I appreciate it. Only now, but my alien love you. I recognize you.