Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Broken promises

It was dawning in the city, I was getting close, with a pocket full of wishful melodies, good melodies. Earlier in the night, they helped me shut that insistent little voice telling me beforehand that the sun does not always shine so bright.

So we meet again, I said to Vinovia, which greeted me gracefully this time around.
The beautiful landscapes never seemed so familiar and warm.

The winter, on the other hand, was clearly falling, bringing up the charming cold weather, colouring soft lights in the sense of style in the south metropolis.

I was fine in the outside.
Inside, my heart, in an uncontrolled act of perhaps following the season, was turning cold and distant. One of my very moments of self-reclusion and reflection. Never in a proper timing.

All the good fortune, dreams and good wishes. They were irrelevant for a moment.

In front of me, the concrete figure of a parallel life.

The diamond children were playing in their world made of glittering, crystal glass. A golden light that reflects so elegantly in the infant's beautiful eyes, eyes that might inspire love and tenderness, but yet are so full of vanity, so full of futility, so empty.

Or maybe it was me who was empty, with little, nothing to add to anything, anyone.

I am just a foolish bag of fragmentary memories, I thought, while struggling to accept that I had become vulnerable once again.

The bright lights around us were glowing with the Vinovian unique sense of chic. So antagonic to my own matrix.

Day was dawning again. As a sad clown, my face was just painted with happiness.

A numb feeling was squeezing my lungs while a strange eager was running through my body.

Among the eloquent silence and some precise hints, it was then confirmed.
Promises had been broken.

With my own devices, I tried waking up and going in for the battle.
I had to win Vinovia once again, and not let my happiness be delayed.

Late at night, I was walking alone on those desert streets, paying no mind to the evident danger of that silly attitude or even to the gelid breeze that apparently believed to be pleasant and insisted to blow right against my face.

Once so charming, the boulevards did not seem any appealing anymore. The city had apparently lost some of its colours.

A couple of friends, a couple of drinks and a couple of dance steps.
It was not properly Vinovia, I felt. Or it was just a different side to it.
The whole set did not differ from my routine in the slightest, which felt weird, unfulfilling, but well - the night was not lost.
I did enjoy the moment after all, in quite good company.

Nevertheless, the broken promises were echoing through my mind, as was the agony of being aware that I could forever be just a foreigner in the glimmering land of gold.

All my dreams, they might all be plain hopeless and I might never grow out my tiny little box.
Is papa to be blame blamed and mama to be hated?
I may never get to climb outside these walls.

Perhaps I should just settle down and accept the facts.

And no longer believe in breakable promises.

Good week, dear reader.

Wednesday, 1 June 2011


And the time had come. Finally. At last.

My life had been left purely on the shelf of oblivion while the clock was slowly ticking.

The experiment was coming.

Every detail (that I could think of or handle at least) organized and then we were all set, headed into the always-unknown metropolis that lays hidden in the end of that road.

As the long straight way was reached, the city blossomed beautifully in front of us, as normal. With it, all the fear and the anticipation - especially on the fierce lady beside me.

On the green boulevard, we found the spot where we would stay for a while.
Smiles waiting.

Night felt and I was there, in the best of companies, waving goodbye to what seemed, at that point, to be an ending era.
"No chocolate tonight", I thought. I didn't want the dinner experience to be fulfilling, as to maintain intact the sense of 'there's more yet to come'.

Every moment was being carefully photographed by my retinae. Acting as poetical and dramatic as normal, I was fearing those could be irreplaceable memories.

Now the precise moment was coming, and we were all eager for it.
Sitting on those comfortable yet frightening little couches, watching any random news about any random death or tragedy, hearing biased comments given by a snobbish upper class woman in the room.
Time would not pass, it seemed.

I was called in several times.
A few blue scratches and I was ready to go.

Bright lights shining and then time stropped. And jumped hours forward.

We're done.

As soft as a breeze it passed through, and I was, well, pretty alive I'd say.

Now sit back, relax, enjoy it.


A new dawn.

For an entire month it feels like I have been sleeping, it seems.

Idle times, lazy times.

Time ticking off so slowly, so damn slowly.

My mind was inexorably taken over by the most ludicrous bunch of nonsense it could come up with.
Well nonsense that is? I could not quite say so.

When you are stuck in a non-move situation, your mind will eventually burst out the ache to fly.
A hectic life cannot stay for very long in this abrupt absence of emotion. Movement is indeed needed and any boredom feeling will therefore be shaken off by your thoughts, sending themselves as far away as your understanding might try to follow.

You engage fighting, you engage mental tricks, you engage plans change.

What am I doing here?

Incomprehension, sadness, insecurity, all them nagging feelings that also come in the same bag.
More importantly at this moment, you look yourself in the mirror and you are not quite pleased by what you see.
Satisfaction lies way ahead.

Several days I could have dedicated to some more productive activities, but no. I gave my time to an uncontrolled thinking, to a poorly led thought experiment that ended up being ridiculously shallow.
All I have is a full package of blurred images of what seemed to be my desires - and my absolute inability to chase after them at this very moment.

That is, perhaps, frightening, terrifying. Then you might choose to just put it all aside and keep living a more comfortable life.
This, my friends, is what separates big achievers from flimsy, null individuals.

Which group do I want to belong?

So many days and drama after, I am ready to be back, I guess.

Not absolutely sure, however, if I am absolutely ready to read my future and set it all apart.

Must I add, no sadness is involved. At all.
There is this smile in my face and I am keen to see what waits on the road.

After this month full of experiments, physical and mental experiments, figures have changed slightly, all building up to the world looking appealing for a change.

I might be being quite a bit silly or naïve, but I am just a youngster who has tasted too little of the world after all.

Life goes on.

Smile, dear reader, smile.
For the future has just begun.