Listen more and more
Here at the bottom Made a tiny snail
Turned into a smile curled
I'm still able to speak
name (Word)
Vicente Aleixandre.
There is always something to say and keep it,
uninterpreted words
Turned into a smile curled
I'm still able to speak
name (Word)
Vicente Aleixandre.
There is always something to say and keep it,
uninterpreted words
With a gesture ignored
A letter without writing
And a story unread.
The white paper has been a long time, perhaps waiting for this moment and my breath is lost, elusive and uncomfortable look at the crowd causing almost an effect - panic. And last night caused a similar result to the day.
When I hear people hear about discomfort or distress always makes reference to something more physical type, only, you need tranquilizers - sedatives pagers that allow (in days) to make and unmake as ever.
Among the swing drugs that exist and pass through the body one remains aware, alive and unable to execute any movement. Meanwhile all attempts are made mentally, then you can get up, quench your thirst and back.
The essential point is that there never was need for that and not that the drugs were not effective.
The noise never was, moreover, continued to pace the heartbeat.
And so the days go by, some people call it "load" is "the cross" is clinging to an imaginary or stuck and is skeptical that any attempt to dodge.
Or is paying a very detailed report card, which sooner or later, we must cancel.
I do not know which theory is closest to this situation and while not the first nor last time that happens, I just hope every day that is a temporary state and to the day when my voice is able to pronounce words accurate and realize that I'm back.
I hope someday my gestures are consistent with the look and that is finally expressing my pragmatic rather than my words.
For now, I live in a kind of subjective pause, where I is preferable to look back, before that, move forward and progress with what is and was. Easing the place where they have never sedatives.
"On some nights, more than others, I close my eyes thinking
The essential point is that there never was need for that and not that the drugs were not effective.
The noise never was, moreover, continued to pace the heartbeat.
And so the days go by, some people call it "load" is "the cross" is clinging to an imaginary or stuck and is skeptical that any attempt to dodge.
Or is paying a very detailed report card, which sooner or later, we must cancel.
I do not know which theory is closest to this situation and while not the first nor last time that happens, I just hope every day that is a temporary state and to the day when my voice is able to pronounce words accurate and realize that I'm back.
I hope someday my gestures are consistent with the look and that is finally expressing my pragmatic rather than my words.
For now, I live in a kind of subjective pause, where I is preferable to look back, before that, move forward and progress with what is and was. Easing the place where they have never sedatives.
"On some nights, more than others, I close my eyes thinking
The opportunity to begin again"
