Chill

When I want to feast my eyes, I look at Castile plains, at the flat and endless lands under hard-blue skies. Then I see the shine of eternity, the glittering of light and goodness. Then I feel its sweet breeze and the softness of its gauzy shape.

Spent my day outdoors listening to silence, listening to birds. Joyful hours without frantic thoughts, since I emptied my head of all the sounds to live life more intensely, to embrace loneliness and pain. To be alive is also to remember what we are made of, to caress our fleshly bodies, our ethereal souls and to accept helplessness. To be alive is also to feel the chill of twilight, to smell death at the end of the day, to chew disappointment and frustration and to wrap beauty and hopes around the flower vase we are, to embellish and to protect it. Fragile and beautiful creatures we are, indeed.

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