See the sun

The clock say quarter to one a.m., it’s late, it’s dark outside and Mr Cold is too often visiting specially this town. At this moment I don’t hear anything, but silence is hardly ever absolute: the sound of the electricity dance in my lamp is making me company.

Inside the bed I use to think what I am, what I am not and what I want to be.

I love this landscape, this people which is MY people, I love its warm. However at the same time, I’m waiting for discover the outside, to travel exotic countries, try new experiences, know new friends and learn all the sciences.

I want to unfurl my wings and fly to a different place. A place where people succeed in remembering compliments they receive and forgetting the insults. A place where people assess more important the criterion of a person than his make up or his way to dress. A place where effort and enthusiasm are ahead of corruption and hypocrisy.

I know all this is a romantic idea; I know sometimes I don’t like to put my feet on the floor. May be is just the age: a time when your dreams flower in our skin because for us it is all too easy. In the better case it is just the wind of spring that is caressing our faces too soon, or even this song I have just heart give me good sensations.

I mean, I don’t want to know why. I prefer to do it in this way. Smile at the days; give an opportunity to this life to be better without anything in return.

(THE KOOKS- See the sun) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vu4AMUa0VJ4

A cup of coffee

A green look behind the smoke of a cup of coffee.

A coffee is emptying but is being filled with advices. 

Advices and sincere words are archiving in drawers of your mind.
A fancy mind is always away from the present.

An insistent present is travelling to look for a smile.
A shy, beautiful, smile behind the coffee that is now cold.

The cold of your eyes that speak without words to me and they shine me without light.
The light of this afternoon is vanishing to welcome the dance of the moon.
A daring Moon is swinging between the chords of a song.

A Bob Dylan song accompanies us on this February afternoon. 

February is defrosting and flowing to find the heat of a dawn of spring.

I would like the spring to be warm, a spring which incites to create an orgy of colours, a spring that apart our loneliness, a spring that brings me closer to you.

You, who you now look at the sugar from the bottom of the cup, you shut up. 
We shut up but we know that we have just said everything between silences.

Silence is broken with the metallic sound of the spoon.

The spoon is moved by your hands.
These cold hands are caring a damaged skin; these cold hands are holding a new cigarette.

A dark look behind the smoke of another cup of coffee.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCUNUrGZIZQ&feature=channel