The next breath. Simply breathing the next. He loved to watch people sleep, observe the subtle movements of the face, count the lashes and breathe the hot breath. Often slept with him and patiently waited to fall asleep to spy on him. He was the only way to really look at it. With eyes wide open, he immersed himself in his furtive face. I must look at him now more than I-think-I can not wake up once more. Never look anyone in the eye, never to feed your soul. E 'indelicate. He was teaching his grandmother, and as such, was sacred. And meanwhile he let his eyes slip between the lines on her face infinite, without thinking, unaware. Guilty of innocence. Absolute stillness was trying to remember the feeling of the "thrill" but everything in that room was still pretty darn hot and still. Even the noise of the city could help: was stuck in that moment and he was afraid it would stay still for too long. Hang too long in an instant it is always dangerous to anyone who has something to forget. Andrea. His name is Andrew. The collection was just like a bird with a broken wing and receiving care dedicating honey, sweet looks and attention. Would give her a pink paper the next day upon awakening. A pink paper reinsegnarle to love the flowers - she said that the flowers of hate. Andrea-repeated insistence, he is Andrew. She has beautiful green eyes and a passion for sailing and he likes chocolate ice cream and live among the people. He likes to feel happy. He is Andrew, and has the look of something. He wanted to pronounce his name, shouting to break the stillness of the night, marchiarselo on the skin. He wanted to wake him, look him in the eye for more than three seconds and providing a look of something. Whatever. Provided it was a live view, full, unlimited. But in his eyes was just emptiness. And vacuum, she could recognize him. Suddenly it was the memory of a moment, another face and another time. But not a deja vu. The deja vu memories of a past lost a sweet taste. For she had never been a deja vu, it had never become a memory of a moment. The veins had crept between the months before and continuously flowed in, a bit like the blood that gives life, or as the poisons that numb the senses. He was the lotus flower.
She watched him from afar, turned his back, framed by the window of his room. His figure was tall and dark in contrast with the light of sunset.
I'd like to come with me to a place in the cemetery .... I wish you knew my grandmother. A few years ago I promised that I'd brought with her as soon as I found you. parted lips, as if to speak, but he knew he would never have confessed that thought. Phil turned slowly and looked into her eyes, for no more than three seconds. A lot of it was enough: he had understood everything. He had seen the infinite void in his eyes. But would still tried to live with it. Perhaps that is why some time later, while he said goodbye in an elevator, she was able to wear a symbolic smile. Then he ran away in the pouring rain. Only in the car, safe, would cry.
This is the first book that my non-public. But I thought it was worth it.
you remember my story 'Déjà vu' ...
This morning around 3:00 and I were just back from a gig where I played so much until my fingers bled. I was exhausted but I was hoping within me to find 'someone' online on MSN. I found two very important people in my life. One, I think the most important moment, put me on a bit 'sad, so much so that I regretted then that I connected. The other, in silence, his playful, able to give me something I never expected. This story.
It's called Deja Vu and is directly related to the one written by me. He wrote it to throw in the evening when I read my feces.
Yes .. she is 'Sofia'.
I am deeply shocked.
Listening still : Twisted - Ultra Nate
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