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Through the fountains of my inner life, I see and I feel years passing through. I see nights, I feel nights, I see days and I feel them, ones more than others. Some days I feel things with an open heart, other days my heart is locked in such a way that it seems I will need a key to open it, mainly because I used a padlock to lock it. Some days I want to open it, but others I want to keep it locked. Some days I feel desolated, like an old grey stone, but other days I feel bright and red, with a clear looking; without torrents, only fountains remain. These are those good days, when I fight for my thoughts, my passions, and my delights, when I have glittering eyes…when I feel like a simple and glorious child. The bad days are those when my eyes become wild, blind, without smell, without sensation, without audition, like misshapen stones. It seems that my life and my soul change according the way I want to perceive and to feel everything, like a life and a soul for every mode of being. But, even so, they cannot be disconnected, they must be linked: like a child and his mother, like a bird and his nest, like a body and its soul, like a play and its characters and author. My life and my soul cannot be solitary beings, and I believe together they will feed my sunshine, my prosperous and unthinking desires, all my blessings, all my scraps and fragments.

Egomet