
Music. Melodies of your own composer. An exclusive privilege. You yearn. Time to spend. The endless silence to erase.
You read. You spell the words.To fill the sounds. Alive.Rays that glow. The sun and the moon They brighten up your homeland.

A casually worn memory. A scarf wrapped like a fragrance all over you. It seems to be settled. Sometimes you smell pictures. You fool around them. A mute spectator. Searching for the price is a temptation. You're dying to live once more.
The days are blooming fertilized by dreams. You take care of the eyes of the heart. To stay open. For your garden to grow big. To hide the ugly things.
You dare to look for luck. You plan without fear. Every sunrise. When it declares its presence. Believer. Waiting for the signal. Every time. An Altar without a Temple. In the light that is not lost.
We swim silence. A word dressed in land. Gone. Every day a little miracle. An unknown force keeps you in the water. It makes hope floats.
You let yourself be. Free to think of it. The acceptance of shortage. Which demystifies the images. Revives the dream. You want to believe in miracles.