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Heartbeat

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Adrenaline.
Beat.
Impact.
Tension.
Strike.
Pulse.
Rhythm.
Knock.
Hit.

Rides in Winter Wonderland, a love never fully tasted, a love yet to come, pre-orgasmic moments, the edge of pleasure for a too libertine action.

A double shot of Lagavulin, a threesome in an exotic summer place, the fence in front of a lake, the way your heart works. Loopholes, falls, high-tides.

A journey to New York, a dream of Australia, quirky knowledge, travels, pulsing energy to entertain myself.




Last year I was trying to fall for something out of reach. Falling too fast and too hard, too much, too soon. Without protection, as usual, my heart was following its mad pulse, in love with the emotion of a heartbeat.

It feels so far and yet it lingers over me.

And with the same rhythm, disillusion and defeat for something which felt so right and so close that instead went lost... might have been fate kicking, hitting, scratching, in a heartbeat, impossible to control. Too short and yet too powerful.


Because, of the years that go by, you only remember moments, not days. You remember the beat, the hit, the pulse of love and pain. The tension for what you dread and fear, the adrenaline for what is yet to come.



And you go forward, forgetting that precise heartbeat, learning how to kill it, covering up all the inconvenient beats with other strikes, more adreanaline, more love, different rhythms, different hits.

2013. Already. And you measure the distance from what was before, what should be, what will never be. And you sadly realise that in the same room or all the way on the Moon, some distances still remain the same.

And how many heartbeats you did not consider? How many heartbeats worthy of being lived and loved did you ignore? How many times did you alter your own rhythm last year? How many times someone knocked and you did not open? How many times you were knocking at someone's door and you have been left outside with the pulse of your heart as only companion?

What kind of impact can a single heartbeat have? What difference can it make if you let it? How much control do I really have over those beats?


And I just need open spaces, sunsets, silence, dance, depth. 
To ease off the feeling of suffocation and despair for a void inside I cannot seem to be able to fill.
"Even if every kiss, every heartache,

is pre-ordered from some cosmic catalogue,
can we still take a wrong step and wander off our personal Milky Way?
I couldn't help but wonder: can you make a mistake and miss your fate?"

(Sex and the City, Season 4, Episode 18)

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