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I remember now. It was a dream. A dream that I often did as a child, I was in a deserted mall. Surrounded by shelves full of shiny packaging beautiful, shimmering. An explosion of colors infinite, everywhere I turned. I ran wildly into the infinite space without ever again find an exit or entrance. I threw myself on the shelves and suddenly began to discard those shiny packages, but inside there are other packages and more packages and parcels, as in a matriosca. Inside there was nothing. I walked away disappointed and confused to some output but I still find it not so fallen to the ground in despair. I looked up and this huge shopping mall desert was homeless. Then slowly I began to rise slowly, swaying in the mall, not knowing to check the route, at the mercy of external forces and winds. I left the center. The surrounding city it is a pile of rubble. The world is finite and for some strange reason I was alive just me. In the shopping center. I close my eyes and suddenly I find myself in a dark room. I see across the room a fire and all around a strange smell of burning spice, a haunting music fills the place of anguish, like a constant equal to lament himself. I try to get up but I can not and suddenly I will pour out of a colored mask and frightening. From behind a voice whispers to me. Do not watch the fire. Concentrate on the light. Then suddenly I woke up. Here for a long time I wondered what that dream meant. What I met on time every month. One day towards the 10 years he stopped to visit me. At the last apparition Form I repeated, not watching the fire. Concentrate on the light. He gave me a pat on his face. A tear began to flow from his mask and then added. Now it's up to you. Remember that. Then he started to take off his mask and suddenly I found myself immersed in a bath in red water. From the faucet drip slowly tears of blood. A sheet in the bottom of the tank. I grab it. Not God but us. We do not but You. You do not, but the Whole. I woke up with this image. Then, gradually, over time I began to forget these memories. Until now. Sitting here watching TV in the dark room to this prison, I watch impassively the election results. The president's party had won Bislosco everywhere and hordes of angry mob rose the sky's the leader. A moment after the presentation of Tg is connected with another left that talks about the great victory, that of the President of the region Turbinola Frisell. Leader of the party opponent Bisolosco. Is carried in triumph as the new savior against the devil Bisolosco. They appear in every corner logos and trademarks bearing the name of Turbinola, a journalist and even showed a line of underwear in his honor. You so I came back to that dream. The words of the form: Do not watch the fire. Focus on luce.Ci think about and understand. I walk over to the bars and the jailer brings me to the Bible that I had asked. The comrades had to leave there in the coded message. Page 24. I read the underlined words: No God but us. We do not but You. Everything but You Do not. Now everything is finally clear.

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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.

Wm Rogers And Sons Aa Butter Knife

My first noncompleanno

You know what link down in the lower right with bush wrote on creations? Well if you try to click on end up on a blog that deals with phantasmagorical creations made by hand from my novia: handbags, brooches, necklaces, art ... art. Well the fact is that that my novia recently hired me for a photo contest sponsored by DaWanda titled "Happy Unbirthday. Be not so long we have let you participate and look a bit we won. Here's the work.

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walkabout


For sedentary nomadic spaces are empty, to the nomads such gaps are filled with invisible footsteps, every strain is an event that can draw mind maps.
places become a machine that lets us acquire new states of consciousness and that we improved. MISSED
should be continually be forced to recreate landmarks is leaving space to dominate us.