In pursuit of an induced therapy I find truly necessary that sweet breaking of an older instance of myself back into the faded pieces that projected once much more sense than the today’s complete puzzle, shining back at me, carved into a shapeless mirror…

Above any misdirection from the outer world I manage to dream again at you, the one that once made possible my recurrent escapes into a space painted mostly with passionate intentions. I am not sure about my words, about any potential thread of conversation, about the safe raising of my re-focused view to conclude either your presence or absence from the scene.

What I hope for is for an ideal silence that can heal the past but also can act as a contingency plan for my unpredictability. And yet, this cold price, paid for not hearing you loving me or, ideally, re-assembling me from the fallen pieces, seems to be the most accurate currency, governing all my non-reactions.

And when your price makes it into currency and you are selling yourself against your remaining time in this world, all seems indeed lost and without the prospect of recovery.

However all the other time, invested into loving your non-communication, your ideal projections of silence and maybe that sweet recurrent disassembly of the frozen puzzle, could be potentially reclaimed and used to solve yourself and to bribe the future into becoming much more suitable for your later expectations.

I finally smile, coming to the conclusion that is I who quietly found my displaced therapy, lost somehow from it’s purpose and functional value. Somehow parked in a similar position as myself. And if by chance it’s composed of dynamic elements (a sweet guiding voice, a scent or a projection of a happier version of you) then this inner join could be nothing but reassuring into a total new re-positioning.

Same idea as before: HitTheRoadJackCover

A video version: https://goo.gl/photos/eLmUeNog9Eb5qdHg9

Just keyboards…. not perfectly in tune but still I will let it fly as it is. Don’t know why. Here it is: Recording_Impro

Sometimes we may believe in the words of the past as they contain all the flavor of breathing the happiness for the unspoken dreams. Sometimes we love the future significance of a gesture captured within the fragment of the second we realize we are in love. And sometimes we just want to be present.

I would have seen the sky in a different shade of blue If I had the time to see myself growing into something bizarre and wild, a circular stone revealed by the moon into it’s surroundings of still water.

I never trusted my image of self confidence, I never stopped to believe in the power of the small things, the ones that make the sound alive regardless of our understanding of a delay. And I wonder, am I too late telling you that you are so beautiful ?

I’ve been an infant spread with joy through the words of my forgetting parents,
I’ve been a prayer for the arrival of the holidays, a constant in the life of the beautiful garden that saved my childhood into a basket filled with summer dreams,
I’ve been religious to the point of giving up hope regarding a world of fear,
I’ve been told to grow up as fast as I can for embracing life as it really is,
I’ve been singing along with the universal silence of those walls, describing the geometry of a much needed conversation about limits,
I found you and realized that love is so beautiful and fragile as a rose, divided among the seasons…

Staying with something long enough induces the illusion that indeed is the best fact for you, required to be performed with regular norm, unbreakable by other wild thoughts of false independence.

The routine must be sweet and thoughtful, must induce presence and must be sought with consistent self – belief. It’s that kind of complex mathematical precision of the sinusoidal representation governed by absolute timing, never going beyond the upper or lower limit.

Between salvaged / imaginary walls everything revolves nicely and placed behind the perfect scripting of the governing power of 2.

Today I’ve managed to record my first draft in a HW / SW configuration that still requires a lot of fine tuning. However it works and makes me feel motivated enough to go on. You can click the link for the download: Soul01.  Enjoy !

Love is not found anymore in the simplest words of redemption, but is advertised on big shiny screens of constant interaction… It is proclaimed to be the destination of all orchestrations and guaranteed with atomic precision.

It is lost and forgiven by time as a prodigy child, continuously searching to bury the cruel memory of not being felt by growing up in a house full of light.

But no tears are to be shed across this faded path of non-communication, it is our silence that brings the best storms to feed the deserted flowers.

Your courage may be noble but it lacks that ever sweet royal finality,
Look deep into her morning eyes, still casting the shadow of that wounded dog,

Poor witness to innocence of a curse, led by the fire of everlasting loyalty,
Write down that runaway phrase, released by the emptiness of judgmental fog.