Eternal of one second

Writing here, for me, is an exercise of meditation. It's the first thing I do in the morning. I sit, look out the window and try not to think of anything. The words come easy, they taste like melted chocolate and flow through my mouth. Some people have melted chocolate voices, especially when they whisper in our ears, but we only notice that, when their voices are in a tone less than normal. It's raining today, it always rains in Ireland. "Jam to-morrow and jam yesterday- but never jam to-day."

Today, sitting at the window, I tried not to think of anything and just feel my body. But from one moment to the next, I felt the need for the pink. I needed it, I still do. My life has little pink, I'm more blue and lilac with a little bit of yellow and green and almost no pink and red. What to do? Today, I'm going to give myself away with the pink. I'll think of you.

"It must be known. That life is short. Life is short." And my favorite quote... "There's love. That has to be lived to the last drop. Without any fear. It does not kill." I woke up thinking about Clarice, my favorite writer along with Patrick Modiano. I'm rereading Star Hour and I keep thinking about her. The world would be an infinitely better place if people read more Clarice. Absolutely. *Image of Waldryano

What is being free? I have no idea. Am I free? I don't know either. Why do I ask questions I don't have an answer to? Who am I? I don't know. Who are you? I don't know. Where are you? I don't know. How much longer do I have to wait? Is there any hope for my chronic dreamer case? When the time comes, can I decide for myself? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. 

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a life I do not remember having lived. You and me and the world around us. Was it real? Another life, another country. Today only my memory remains and it is flawed and imperfect. Every time I try to get closer, the image escapes me and I am again a victim of forgetfulness. Who am I really?

I have absolutely nothing to do at home, so I find myself thinking about the meaning of existence. What is the meaning of life? Getting out of place. To find love and live it to the last drop, without fear because it doesn't kill. To cross bridges. Translating yourself. Is that it? I have no way of knowing, but that's what I'm trying to do.

Sometimes I'm plagued by stupid ideas, yet I run after them. At the moment, I have only my ideas, nothing more. They keep my sanity and hold my hand. I have learned not to close the doors, I have learned that paths should not be rejected without at least one attempt, or often several attempts. Yesterday I got secret help, small, tiny, but something that gave me a bit of hope. I continue. Forward.

There are two ways in which our brains make unreal memories themselves. The processes are confabulation and confusion of sources. I keep wondering how many invented memories I have and the more I think, the more I have the feeling that all my memories are, in a way, created by me. I keep reminiscing about a memory incessantly, and I pray that at least this one be real. *Image of S. Hermann & F. Richter

There are many ways in which our memories are altered. Everything we remember does not correspond to the exact reality. The you of my thought, is not the real you. Calderon de la Barca was right, life is an illusion. * Michal Jarmoluk's picture

I have no idea why I'm being led to write these lines. Writing is like being driven in an unknown direction. I have been feeling for some weeks now that something in my life is changing, even if it is not apparently. I keep doing the same things, yet the "energy" that circulates me is changing. A sleeping part of me has woken up again and I don't really know what to do with it. I just have to follow the flow, I keep trying to remember. If I repeat this sentence constantly to myself, one hour I will understand. It's inevitable.

Some memories are destined to accompany us throughout existence. You are one of them. Just when I think I'm going another way. You again. *Joshua Woroniecki's picture

Today is my birthday. I thought about talking about myself, but how can I say anything if I feel like I'm disappearing? I create castles of imagination that don't exist outside my mind. I have invisible friends, invented, dreamed and appreciated. I dream all day long. Today I dreamed about you, yes you! Will I always be like this? Probably. Does it matter? No. *Donna Kirby's picture

He thought all the time. He was locked in the house, had nothing else to do. "I can't keep looking at the photos she puts on Instagram, I can't." "That's desire. It'll pass. At some point the desire goes away, I know it will." "It would be so embarrassing if she found out." "Sure, that's not gonna happen. She has no way of knowing." "She's probably already forgotten about me." But he couldn't. From time to time, he looked at her pictures. He wanted to know about her life, what she was doing, why she never showed up in his classes, where she would be. They played cat and mouse, because deep down, she knew. She always knew. She was just waiting for him to take heart. One day. One day he'd come after her. She just had to wait. And while she waited, she amused herself by throwing him crumbs, which he devoured. * Fabien Monteil's image

To the pessimists, the empty glass. To optimists, everything that exists. To the pessimists, the bottom of the can. To optimists, the beach at sunrise. To the pessimists, the not knowing and the doubting. To the optimists, the unshakeable certainty in the future.

Our imagination can take us far away, to strange lands that do not exist beyond our mind, but the real beauty of letting go is that, in some moments, what does not exist can be made present. Today I realize that dreaming alone, doesn't get me anywhere, but dreaming together with persistence allows me to go beyond myself.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without the memory I have of you. It would be a little lighter. I'd suffer less, I'm sure. But who are you? Who are you, stranger? No one. Like me. *Picture of Arek Socha

Sometimes we are hit by a huge discharge of energy, and then an inspiration arises. Yesterday it was like that with me. With maturity, I learned not to reject those moments, I learned to go after ideas, however insignificant they may seem. That's a bit what I do here. I write for myself, because I know that no one else reads blogs these days. Today, as I write, I wonder where I'll be taken with this new idea and I know it will be a little further, a little further and, myself at the end. * Image from Keli Black

I spent the day yesterday being invited to hibernate. Mother bear found me and led me to the cave. It was dark in there, but I wasn't afraid. Mother bear told me two secrets about myself, I keep them in my heart. Sometimes some animals are insistent, they want to be heard. I decided to give myself the time my body was asking. 

What is life? Definitely a frenzy. Inside me there's a I don't know what upcoming I don't know from where. I dream and think all the time. Who am I? Where are you? Who are you, really? And at the end of the day, I remain unanswered.

What is it to be happy? How can we be happy? I have no idea. I had some strange dreams today, my dreams proliferated here in Ireland, it was a good dream, usually they have been good. I woke up thinking that to dream is to be happy. To kiss my son in the morning. To wake up and just have to write. To live for myself. To be silent. Not to be afraid. To be whole. To realize how big life is. To read all the time. To have books all over the house. Not to worry about problems that don't exist. Take it one step at a time. To imagine the unimaginable. *Pictura of Silviarita

Sometimes the Universe presents us with keys, one for the future, one for ourselves, one for happiness, one for every moment of our lives. They were made to open the doors of the unknown that exists in us, we can choose to open the doors or leave them as they are, locked. All my life I have had the feeling that knowing is better than not knowing, so every time I find a key along the way, I have no doubts, I open the door. *Image from Kafemik

Once upon a time, there was someone different from me. Her dreams were small, she was just a tiny insect in the middle of the exorbitant world. One day she felt overwhelmed by the greatness around her and thought about giving up, but then someone taught her a mantra and she learned it. One day at a time and one step at a time. This is her ever since...

Who killed Marielle Franco? Why do I get the feeling her case has been forgotten? Why hasn't her case been solved yet? Why doesn't anyone else talk about it?  Who was responsible for her death? Will all the questions one day be answered?

I try not to care, but the truth is, I live from my daydreams. They are all I have and I hope, one day, to be guided to a place where I can finally live fully. My dreams are the only thing that keeps me alive and that is a fine thread, I always need a lot of concentration. Living is not easy, especially when we are crushed by the pain of everyday life. There are days when I am gloomier. Looks like that's one of them. I just have to wait an hour for the pain to go away. I stand still, almost motionless, my thoughts fly and then the pain is no longer in my body. *Image of Khusen Rustamov

It rained yesterday and it hadn't rained for a long time. Today it's grey, but I don't mind. The days go by without me noticing. I think of you. I think of many people. One more day and I'm alive. Today I still remain. I don't know for how long. I'd just like to see you again. One day, who knows...

Yesterday I was trying to remember the last time I saw someone. I couldn't. I sat for a long time and nothing. Then a spark came to my mind and my memory lit up. I spent the day thinking about this process, how we relive our memories, how we can make them appear to us again. I understood that they do not appear by force, but by a connecting element. In the case of the memory I was trying to relive, it returned because I remembered an object that was in the hand of the person I wanted to remember. Long lost memories can be found again only by linking the two seemingly banal points. *Image of Elivelton Nogueira

Persistence, desire and imagination, so I was told. But what about luck? What about you? Where are you? Simple, but complicated. So is living. One day at a time and rocks in the middle, so many rocks. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't. Nevertheless, I am here with my heart beat. I have hope and faith, will that be enough? I hope so. I have faith that they will.

Among the leaves, I see the sunlight. There is light and that is all I have to say. There is light.

There are some tarot cards that follow me, the Star and the two of cups are one of them. Today I woke up wondering where I will be guided by the light of the Star above me? Where will it take me? What does it want to show me?There are many things that I don't understand, there are others that I feel I don't need to understand, these are the things that really matter. What we know physically, not with our mind, but with our body. I've been paying attention to these things, I don't let them go, because I have the feeling that they can really change my life. *Komahouse image

There's you and me, but only one of us. A single heart, perfect and imperfect, so human. Who of us will get to overcome the pain? Who of us will be able to stay in the path? I have no idea. I never know anything. I'm too little, a grain of sand in an unknown world.