'you couldn't see that life is only given to those who cry,
to those who love, and have been loved.
and if you refuse yourself to passion, you
will lose yourself to madness'
-Vinicius de Moraes
what drives us is purpose. colours, songs, dance, movement, people, intimacy, laughter, creation, kindness. i will grow. i must grow. there is no other way...i'm ready to leave all these bad things behind, now, and live for poetry in everyday life, to conquer my demons. you always underestimate your own strength. last year the mice had started to dream beside me, the fairies had began to quieten. all the ferns had fallen away but by now i had had enough to camouflage my tent. nothing is more intimate than being alone with your thoughts night by night, left to confront them in the deserts of the heart. there are nights i gave in to what took me away; solitude, loneliness, the fear of being caught. other nights, i thought it tooth by tooth, severed off the veins of the night and sat out under the moon, listening to the melody of the woods laughing hysterically at how strong i felt in this life, immersed in what was once impossible.
i don't know how strength comes and goes like that.
in the belly of the whale, i begin to climb out. i'm ready to leave again, now, i'm so thirsty for my own paths to follow, independence, truth..all these foolish things that are underestimated. more than anything, i need to find my own way again. it took so long to find my fascination again - knowledge, dance, travel, personal philosophy, courage..ah, and i read again! it's so wonderful to be interested in just...things. i've also realised that i have no distinct narrative inside me, there is nothing that constructs my mess into order and synchronisation..just colours, images, little details. perhaps this is my story, scattered along the paths i leave behind me.
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