Just Maybe Forse Ciao

There is dust in my hair and my feet are always somehow dirty these days and a calm calm kind of chaos everyone sleeps at midnight but before they embrace a revolution. And the necessity for human touch not the kind that you buy at the supermarket not the one that everyone can buy well, maybe, if everything else fails. But this is not what they want here. Not what I want either. I want unique.  My necessity for human touch while the dust mixes up in my hair and something, like a cork, just snapped.  Was I somehow trapping myself again? I tend to do that. Necessity for human touch  to break my ways to break my bones.  I need to break my bones.  Now that I feel comfortable having curly hair,  and being naked and blind because a brush on my skin,  that I cannot see,  is perhaps all that is needed  for clarity of mind and body. He, who paints on me,  brings a tiny bit of clarity does...

...You, be careful, as I know myself I treasure my solitude but I know what I want and I tend to persist. I am not patient, but I try, that is my biggest flaw I cannot stand  uncertainty  and waiting is painful for me I understand, however, the need for imprecision. I treasure imprecision,  as it allows surprise. I won't need you to save me I will want you to dig deeper in me I need your eyes and mind to find other parts of me in me. And I will want to do the same with you within you, for you. I cannot hurt myself to save you either and I need to preserve my individual spaces every now and then I cannot share everything and everywhere. I will be around you if not with you I will follow you where you ask me I will follow you into the abyss It might even take me an hour to fall in love and I believe that love can last in some, whichever, form forever If you believe in forever I can wait forever. I belie...

It takes an ocean not to break, sing The National. She is broken. In vino veritas, when we drink there is the true self. And all you say is magnified by that self that wants to set free. But we lie so much and so much better when we are sober that lies are our new reality instead and that is the reality we impose on others, calling it "necessity". Between laughter and forgetting how long does it take? How long is the journey from 'everything will be alright, let's smile' to 'you never existed, let's forget'? A couple of hours? A transoceanic flight? An overnight? A rollercoaster ride? She is enduring the quiet after the storm and she is lost in the unspoken the unsaid. This silence is not elegant, is not wanted, is forced upon her like the most shameful of the scarlet letters. Everyone knows now what she did and could have done and the first to blame her, it's him, deep down. The threats were real and have inf...

Reality is that you will be attracted to way more people than you will be ever able to fall in love with or even like sometimes. Physical attraction has nothing to do with respect and viceversa. Reality is, if you think about it for a second, that there is no guarantee that if you fall today, you'll still feel like falling tomorrow. It's just the air around you, that makes you fall. Reality is that you keep on waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet, for that feeling you felt once, twice and was nevertheless just a mild glittering light rather than the gold you thought.  So what are you really waiting for? Reality is that we all measure love by its failures. What went wrong. What could have been done differently. Should, could, would. Instead of learning what went right, even in the separation. Especially in the separation. Reality is that we are constantly evolving and at different speeds, so the best we can hope is not to find someone to be still with, but som...

Hodně štěstí zdraví, hodně štěstí zdraví, hodně štěstí milý ...hodně štěstí zdraví... She has been blocking the thoughts for days, for weeks, after that heartbreaking parting in Bilbao ; every night she had tried to fill in the expected void with random people, random tv, random alcohol, random flirting with random strangers, crazy hotel nights in a European capital, London parties, theatre, friends, skype talks with unexpected people insinuating her life nicely, living a story to which her heart can easily surrender cause he is nice and he cares for her, unlike him who is not there anymore. She has been laughing at life bringing back memories from a distant past, from a painful past, in weird twisted ways, she has been trying to laugh as hard as she can, trying to believe as she has always believed that love can make the difference, that sooner or later all the love she has given will come back, maybe in another form, but it is never wasted. It cannot be wasted.  And then a ...

The modern world should grant us more choice than just killing dreams, individuality and love through a bottled up relation or renouncing to a relation for the sake of romantic love, instead. The Girl-with-a-top-hat thought while coming down from the space-ship. - Gakddg %^%$^£ 1334? - said the purple alien, cause she read her mind. - Uh?  - The Girl-with-a-top-hat widened her eyes. - Gakddg %^%$^£ 1334???? - repeated the alien, activating the inter-planetary comprehension device. - Ah right...well no, from where I come from the choice seems to be somehow reduced to two stages only: either you end up in a relationship, which means talking everyday, mainly about nothing after a while, normalising love and taking away the magic by giving in to compromise and reality; or else, you decide to avoid relationship just for the opportunity to win love, magic love, limitless love, that romantic love which ignites the soul, every now and then, knowing that you can't have both....