lunes, abril 27, 2009

If... For at least one minute each day

Good morning sir, she said, filled with her juvenile joy. As if there were no enemies in her gray room. As if she wasn't the girl in the fallen portrait at the back of her own door. She hates herself, you may think, but that is not the truth. Not the whole truth, that is.

You'll see, she could hate herself. She could blame herself for being stupid, unaware or even a pervert. Well, she could.

But her wishes leads us to a different place. A better one. A joyful one. A place where songs tells anything except the words on them, where kisses are salty, where ice cream has the sound of the ocean, where naked bodies are as bright as stars.

That is the place dreamed for the rest of us. But she lives on it. She owns it. It isn't just a place, its her world; her own great world. And the good thing of all of this is the fact, the fact because people around her are so grateful, that its a world able to be shared.

So maybe those faceless enemies in her room are scary. Maybe the sound of her voice could lie to our perception. Maybe you could think there is a noisy sound coming out of her head everythime she stands still with her eyes looking through the window. But no... All of those noises are going in the opposite direction, right into her mind. Into her body. And they are transformed into smiles and tears and with that she fills all the blank spaces between her guts. She owns a vaccum, you know, but it's far to be seen.

Instead we can feel her universe; we can see it through her eyes.

I can see a very special place somewhere inside. There is a chair in it. You name the color.

And that is the place i call home.

Now playing: Interpol - interpol - turn on the bright lights - 07 - obstacle 2
via FoxyTunes

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