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Like a cloud blown by the wind ...

In the seventies, Cavandoli an entire universe contained in the tip of a pencil.
The hand that traced the line to allow mannikin, also drawn by a single line without interruption, to continue his journey.
A continuous white line ... on a black background.
... The conflict between creator and subject.

For too long, what was your universe, a drawing ... white on black background.

Maybe it's the destiny that chose the sketch of our lives ... and destiny can take unexpected profiles.

Over the years some memories fade, they take different forms and sometimes you wonder if you have a sudden flashback to the front of the eyes are really part of you, or if the imagination and mood of the moment have not helped to change the contours.

When the ghosts of the past are looking for you, try to scare them away ... putting pen to paper. But
affect words based on memories that fill your mind at any given time, is likely to capture images that, once printed, you just can not change.
stay focused on those representations disallow yourself to have a more comprehensive and complete.

you able to notice the nuances or small to see without you looking over?

monsters were mocking those dancing around you, small or insignificant beings disguised to conceal their true likeness?

If you look at them carefully to change their appearance, what you see is the fear, watch faces, e ti accorgi che l’assedio perde di significato.

Non esiste muro di contenimento che non si possa abbattere…peccato che spesso è solo la barriera degli altri quella che vorresti annientare, non la tua.
Vorresti spogliare chi ti sta davanti, serrando entrambe le mani sul tuo paltò.

Abbiamo costantemente bisogno di conferme, di essere rassicurati; apparentemente aperti al mondo… rintanati nella nostra solitudine d’anima che ci fa sentire così “diversi”…a tratti… speciali e incompresi.
Sempre pronti a dimostrare, giudicare…quasi mai disposti a capire.

E le aspettative? …così egoistiche… devastanti, se deluse…

thousand questions crowding his thoughts.
A lot of you can answer.
Some questions remain without success ... others do not require feedback.
Sometimes the solution. ... And demand.

Like a cloud blown by the wind ... changing ...

Clear String In My Eye

Train

When I was a child, my grandfather took me to the station to watch trains.
trains departing and arriving trains.
told me the train of the sun, what took him so far, from the south, the long hours spent on those carriages crowded with men, women and children, suitcases and boxes, poverty and ignorance, tears and dignity of ... hopes.

Over time, from time to time, I went back on those tracks to watch trains.
With an eye to nothing, I imagined that the old locomotive whistled the freedom of slaves, freight cars packed with humans led to the slaughter, saw container full of solidarity and power ... "life" and "death."
Sometimes I linger on people waiting on the pavement of the track.
There was always someone looking at his watch and snorted, who walked back and forth incessantly, who sat with the newspaper on his knees, raised his eyes from time to time, and then people waving to a departing train and who was lost in an embrace with a large bag or backpack still on his shoulders.
There were smiles and tears.
There was a train that brought the joy ... and another that starts, trailing off a bit of heart.

They say that some trains go by and do not return, that their stay is not very hard at times ... just a moment. You can
groped to take the flight or give up, wait for another that perhaps will have the same destination, or will be different, but still pleasant or surprising, or risk entering a tunnel that never ends ....

How many trains pass I've seen in recent years!
Someone I purposely lost, others I scooted in front of a such speed that I have not had time to really understand what they were.

But there is always a train stopped at the station, waiting for you.
E 'there, ready for you.
of some trains do not know the destination, you know that the journey, long or short it may be a unique and unforgettable.
But you're afraid of losing, of not being able to go back.

You see from afar, there is no minutes at the start, you start to run and run until you feel short of breath, his legs give way, the heart goes out to thousands and you think "I can not ..." can not I do ... but you continue to advance, more and more slowly until ... almost to a stop ...

If you can stretch a hand grasping the handle and go up, while he is leaving.
If you stop, start without you.

You decide if you stand on it, or stand and watch as it moves away.

Or you another option: to wait for the next one!
I'm sure it will pass. Maybe not today, not even a month, but it will pass.
And this time do not lose, because the only thing you'll want ... it will get on that train!

Honeywellred Flower On

From "Beyond Love" by Roman Battle

It 's a summer night. I'm sitting at the foot of the old oak tree behind my house. I'm often when the sky is clear and you can see the stars. It 'a habit that I keep for years. I am convinced that the trees have the magnetic power to influence the human mind and to remember events far in the past and forgotten.

I've always had a particular veneration for their trunks, branches, leaves. As a boy I stopped to look at a poplar tree that was shaped like a big hand, with one branch longer, pointed a finger to point to the sky. All those who passed those parts could not help but look up and discovered that the sky with its clouds, rain, the rainbow, the stars and the sun is the best show of creation.

Tonight is full moon illuminates the pinewoods and the beach. It 's my protector.

When I was born, in a July night, shining high in the sky just like tonight. I feel his influence, his magic.

The heat is stifling in this August night, the sea's voice brings me to a distant echo. Waiting around is in the air, everything is stopped. The moon illuminates the landscape with a soft light and mysterious.

around my house I feel the smell of the pines and the sour of the myrtle and tamarisk. The shutters of the windows with the breeze slight move, the old doors slamming shut. Among the branches of the oak, under which they are sitting, sleeping birds.

tenderness I feel for all that pulsates around me, the memory of my parents hovering over every corner.

In the air I feel something unusual, I think I hear distant voices. It only happens when there is high tide and the wind passing among the pines.

The moon is in front of me, fills the sky with its light, I feel close. It 'strange against human beings, the earth, animals, nature. Sometimes it even seems incomprehensible to his coolness in the sky, other times it is moving to the impulses of generosità con la sua luce che illumina le notti.

Inseparabile compagna della terra, è il corpo celeste più vicino a noi e proprio per questo molto visibile anche se, non avendo una fonte energetica interna, risplende solo per via della luce solare riflessa dalla sua superficie. Un altro mistero che interessa la luna è legato al suo ‘lato oscuro’. Infatti orbita attorno alla terra mostrandoci sempre e solo una delle due facce. L’altra, non è mai visibile. Si è sempre pensato, come nelle avventure a fumetti di un tempo, che nella parte segreta, tra le rocce e le valli del lato oscuro, potessero trovarsi una vera e propria colonia extraterrestre. Una possibilità remota che qualcuno crede ancora reale.

In my mind goes on a journey without end that leads me to distant lands, where it still beats the heart of ancient civilization buried. I remember the books where written history of the world, I see places that I had forgotten. I realize, in the silence that surrounds me in this hour of the night, a piece of heaven down to me. Comes from large areas or perhaps the moon. It comes from ancient times where the items have ended long ago.

Existence is full of silences, glances and discovery, reflection and love. We must turn our eyes to heaven with all its stars, to understand that life is a reality that is lived fully because è un’occasione unica , irripetibile.

Di fronte a un panorama così vario che, come per incanto mi appare, penso che la vita sia più complessa di quanto la immaginiamo: niente finisce, ogni verità rivive nel tempo che scorre.

Stasera, le mie riflessioni sparse come le stelle dell’Orsa si accavallano, perciò si dovrebbe sempre cercare e ascoltare, perché anche dietro al canto dei grilli ci può essere qualcuno che chiede la nostra attenzione.

Spesso trascuriamo i valori presenti immaginando soltanto un domani diverso che forse non arriverà mai. Lasciamo passare il tempo nella convinzione che i nostri desideri diventino realtà, dimenticando che gli attimi che viviamo sono la verità del nostro presente.

Una volta mi raccontarono di un uomo che cercava il suo amore perduto fra le pieghe della vita dove si annida la polvere del tempo. ” Ti cercherò per sempre- diceva - al di là di quel ponte che varcasti l’ultima volta. Ti cercherò anche fra mille anni. Sono sicuro che ti ritroverò sulla riva del fiume”.

Un vero amore non può morire perché è come il fiore delle grandi altitudini che sboccia anche fra il gelo delle nevi.

Quell’uomo voleva dire: “Aspettami sempre ed io ritornerò. Aspettami sempre, fra i venti e le maree, di notte e di giorno, ogni volta che si alza il vento e la luna tramonta.

Aspettami. Non stancarti mai di aspettarmi “.

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am the wind ... Prison

Voglio parlare, raccontare,

ma le parole sono vento, non restano...

mi senti?...sono il vento.

Ti soffio, ti sfioro,

ti scompiglio,

mi senti?...sono il vento.

Mi respiri, mi parli,

è la stessa voce, è un eco.

Mi senti?...sono the wind.

blows hard, rock everything.

Love can you hear me?

... I am the wind.


Indian Poetry

Can You Bathe With A Bladder Prolapse

live one life in one city in one country

in one universe
live in one world is
prison ...

love a friend
only one father one mother


one family to love one person is

prison ...
Conoscere una sola lingua
un solo lavoro
un solo costume
una sola civiltà
conoscere una sola logica
è prigione…

Avere un solo corpo
un solo pensiero
una sola conoscenza
una sola essenza
avere un solo essere
é prigione…

N.Ngama
Kenia