The world slowly wakes up, noise by noise, while I try to capture it with my eyes. The lights behind me reassure me I'm at home, bragging their warmth and inviting me in. Yet I'm still sitting on this balcony, hanging my legs and my feet resting on the old tile roof. I'm distracted and attracted by the feeling of the night.

When everything seems to hold its breath and time disappears for the arrival of a new day.

When the stars seem like a thousand suns, giving that small amount of light that keeps our dreams safe.

Even the quick flashing Christmas lights, tinkering brightly on the balcony of the dormant house in front, are overpowered by the true glow of a single star. The street lights beneath the rooftops light the roads for those who won’t walk but stay asleep.

Pigeons start making their first sounds, rustling in the holes were their wings rest and their eyes close. Disrupting the silence, their wings flutter in the still air as they fly to and from there.

A slight brush of daylight peaks behind the tall church, only making its outline and shadow visible. The shapes of dark clouds start appearing from their contrast with the rising sun.

My ears are rapidly filled with the vibrations of the sudden ring of the churches’ bell, a constant reminder of the reality of time.

It feels as if yesterday and today are magically combined as I look up to find missing stars. Yet one remains, left behind to savour the last moments of serenity. Soon the noises will open the worlds’ eyes, and finally awake a new day will begin.

and miles to go before I sleep

There will be thousands of people that will cross roads with you. Some might give you browns and grays that will darken you painting. Yet some might turn to be the brightest, warmest colours. The trick is to remember that for there to be light in you painting, it was to have shadows. And if there's a time when you think it's getting too dark, remember: you're the one holding the brush.

And life is your canvas.

second doubting

To doubt something may mean to be insecure about it, to not know how to get around to the lighted part of a shadowed tree. To doubt something twice is just going around that same tree looking for where the sun is hitting it, two times. But if you missed it the first time, why go around another time? Maybe you're waiting for the sun to shine on it, or for there to be a shadow to hide under, but you're still going around the same tree.
It's a desition that is looked back upon to question it, its a choice you want to take again, it's an ending you don't want to accept.
Or it's regaining counciousness, it's a second opportunity, it's another road to take.
Whatever it is, the light or the shadow, you can't keep on doubting.
It'll only make you dizzy, going around that tree so many times.

come on along, it won't take long

Remember the silence of the winter night that finally reunited you with the reason of your living, your mom. Remember the lights of the streets and the passing cars that iluminated her face with temporary quick flashes. Remember how she let your warm young hand rest in her soft palm as you drove in silence. The smile that was deeper than physical, the way your heart and yourself were finally enwrapped. Remember how much you had missed her, how many days you had counted for this moment in which every detail jumped as extraordinary. Remember how you were loved with such intensity and truth.
Now remember his hugs. Remember the way your hand fit perfectly into his. His nuckles wide enough to let your cold fingers slip in between and be embraced by his. Remember how you looked at him, almost seeing your reflection in his watery eyes. With such love did he stare back, compassionatly and protectively. Remember the joy he took with every smile you shared with him. Your brother, your companion and guider through life.

The mirror seemed like a picture, taken by a shaking hand and blurred to the eyesight. My eyes stared back at themselves, focusing on nothing but the faded colors and shadows around them. The cold yellow light escaped from the bulbs above and emphasized the stillness in the bathroom. My hands shaking, I grabbed the cup beside the sink and opened the squeaking tap to pour water in. My eyes never leaving their reflection. The overflowing water dripped down one hand, I held the weight of a thousand pounds compacted in fifteen pills on my other hand. My eyes never leaving their reflection. My arm pulled my hand away from the tap, carrying the cup closer to my mouth. I closed my fingers, forming a fist around the dry pills. I could feel every curve, every hard edge and ending point of every single one. My eyes never leaving their reflection. My breathing seemed to fill my ears with noise. It suddenly became a task, as if I had to think of how to fill my lungs. My fist tightened, my nails digging into my palms.
A sudden movement, a tiny dark shadow crossed across the light bulb ontop of the mirror. I was shaken awake. My eyes darted towards the fly. Everything gained it's reality back. My naked shoulders suddenly asked for cover. My fist released it's grasp, pills falling and bouncing on the white tile that held my cold bare feet. The fly desperatly tried to get to the light, as if inside something was hidden, an unknown attraction that led to such desire. I watched it flutter around, dance between the air and constantly crash with the mirror or the light bulb itself. It simply kept on going.
Maybe I stood there for minutes, maybe hours. I unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out. I followed my feet down the stairs, feeling weightless and vulnerable. I sat in my empty living room, perfectly organized, naked. My empty hands rested on my knees.
I let my head fall back on the pillow. I closed my eyes. I smiled; I hadn't let my reflection lose myself.

His innosence faded with the sound of his harsh voice, the look in his frowning eyes, and the stength of his closed fist. He had yelled for the words he could not find inside his lonley mind. I had seen him smile, once, along with my body underneath his and passion muting truth. I had felt his love once too. Yet reality increased its volume, and soon I could not hear anything except his bangs and screams and punches on the wall. I dedicated my days on recreating the series of events, trying to understand how one so loving could so suddenly change. I held on to those moments in which I saw his eyes focus on mine, in which his trembling hands wondered on my body, in which I had fallen so deeply in love. I could not let go; I needed to save him. Yet his eyes avoided mine and his hands rarley caressed my skin.
My feet submerged inside, the cold roaring water drowned them. My toes clenched around the rocky surface, feeling the force of the river pull on my weight. The warmth of the morning let clouds of steam swim ontop of the water, surrounding my body with a gentle touch. My shoulders shivered in the bare wind, the summer morning breathing shivers down my back.
I cannot save him. His heart is far too lost behind his lonley mind. I can only let him go. For now is the time when the colours on the ground will grow to fill my eyes with joy, when the heat in the air will hug my body, and when each breath I take I will let me move on.

I need you to need me

The petals whispered a gentle touch on my body, each one bending to form the outline of every curve. They floated around me; thousands of daisies dancing on top of the water. Each breath I exhaled left bubbles in its wake, pushing the daisies apart. Weightless, I let the softness of the flower float me with them. I was suspended; nothing above to pull me, nothing beneath to catch me. Just the gentle touch of thousands of petals. My sight adjusted to the light in the bathroom as I sat back up. I reached towards the squeaking faucets to turn the streams of hot water off. The blue early day light swam with my reflection in the bath tub. A rush of wind from the opened window disturbed the stillness and formed waves that crashed against my skin. Trembling, I wrapped a towel around my shivering shoulders, my footsteps leaving puddles behind them. The foggy mirror let no vanity oppress the vulnerability of my dormant hallucinations. I let the towel drop to the ground along with the excess water from my body. The speed in which it hit the floor echoed the timeless trance with a silent thump.
The pedals penetrated the wind, pushing through it to gain speed. My hair refused to move with me, leaving its trace fluttering behind my head. The grip on the handles was numbingly cold, fighting for absolute control over the bikes' direction. The wheels touched the ground with constant rotation, each time a different surface, each time the same touch. My breath increased its rhythm, with each a warm cloud was released beneath my nose. My body gained its heartbeats, blood rapidly flowing through me, wetting my palms as it passed. Each muscle harshly tensed, with every pulse quick biting wind pinching my skin, limiting my eyesight. My forehead burning with sweat.
Purely intimidating, temptingly inviting; perfection. The water, the wind, the clouds, the sun. On top, above, beneath, below. They sang and breathed and painted the picture in which I stood, my bike resting on my hip. I had died that morning; drowned in a bed of petals. I had died that evening; burnt by the caressing wind. I had died that instant; blinded by beauty. There is no way to live, except to die

your paintings

maybe i just like the way you see the world.

lets go back to 1875

But even so, I think that you will not have to remain without a solution if you trust in Things that are like the ones my eyes are now resting upon. If you trust in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasurable; if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconciling, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge. You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

RAINER MARIA RILKE - LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET, LETTER NUMBER 4

Ian

He touches my hands with a strong grasp. His minuter fingers tighten around mine, holding on for just a few seconds before letting go to grab something else. I make his torso rest on my arm as I lift us both from a chair. I can feel his delicate body depend on my hold. The slightest movement seems magical- his hands clinching together and apart, his eyes focusing and unfocusing, his little mouth wide open. So fragile; his vulnerability scares me. I turn him to face me. His eyes reflect the light from all around, protected by a shiny layer of water. They focus on mine. I try to look, expecting to find something. He lifts his chubby hand towards my face and quickly grasps onto a strand of hair. His little eyes squint and with a smile he pulls on my hair.

come on along, it won't take long

We might not have the gun and the fingerprints to prove our point, yet simply existing, living in a world we can’t really understand and looking for more answers is evidence enough.
It’s not about what there is to find, but how you try to look.

The dream of togetherness turned into a bigger mess.

Streaks of fallen clouds slide between each other. They're carefully positioned , some protecting the sun, some sharing the sunlight. The overpowering blue stands on top of them, expanding itself and submerging the world underneath it. The top of the trees dip their leaves into the fog, becoming invisible to the rest underneath. My toes clinch as I imagine my legs grow, and grow, and grow until my head is surrounded by white. White moisture that makes my breathing more dense. I look around and my eyes only capture the light. I feel suspended, lifted by strings on my shoulders. My eyelashes flutter, shaking the drops that the clouds have shared with them. I lift one arm to try to push myself on top of a cloud, the heaviness of it made it almost impossible. The difficulty of such a simple thing makes me smile. My arms finally rest above me, grasping onto the curve of a cloud I lift myself up from the ground. My feet spring up in a force and speed of desperation.
I sit there, on a cloud, patiently not waiting for anything.

hope you're coming with me

I opened my eyes to the brightness of a single streak of light, peeking through the curtains. I wondered about the time for a second, and decided to turn it into a few minutes. Immobile I lay there watching the light dance with the air, particles falling and dust floating, moving through and past the air. It quietly whispered a sudden brush of wind that caressed my eyelashes. I closed my eyes to gain some moisture back. A hand interrupted my thoughts as it lovingly made its waty to my face. His fingers made the familiar gesture of moving from cheek to eyebrows, from eyebrows to nose, and softly towards my lips. Instinctivley my lips pursed to return the feeling, sharing the energy to finally uncover ourselves form the shelters of blankets that seccured our loving dreams. I made my way out of the room, careful not to step on the carpets of papers, paints and brushes. I opened the door and a wave of light drowned my sight. I let my eyes adjust as I stood there, my mind still dreaming, my brain still resting. Shuffling slowly, I made my way to the kitchen. The coffee machine was waiting patiently for its turn to wake up. I walked around the table towards the sink, fully loaded with cleaned brushes. Opening the cabinet on top, closing the cabinet on top, I grabbed the baby bottle, poured in some milk, and the day, my life, was finally awake.

put your hand on your heart and tell me

I dragged my feet and an enormous bag behind me, inhaling as little of the freezing air as possible. I walked outside the airport. The heat from my body was absorbed by the layer of frozen wind above it. I stopped behind my mom as she turned her purse upside down to look for her cigarettes. I sighed a cloud of warm air as I sat on top of the unsteady bag. I focused my eyes on the burning end of the cigarette, how it slowly fell as if the air was so dense it could catch it. Then I noticed how many people were walking past me and how fast they were moving. Maybe it was everyone's hurry to get some place with heating, maybe it was me. But for a split second I can swear I saw time literally rush by me. I unfocused my eyes from the cigarette and everything looked normal. I had put myself in the bubble of time, secure from the routine of depending on it.

Who can say when the roads meet, that love might be in your heart?

She sat behind me, her legs embracing my body, her fingers stroking my hair. I rested my head on her chest, listening to a strong rhythm of her beats. My cheeks felt wet, my throat too opened, and my hands too heavy. We sat in silence while we waited for nothing, neither one of us wanted to break the perfect stillness lying underneath our affection. My eyes finally opened, letting a tear drop to land on her chest. I looked up, expecting to see the sky, wishing to see more. I turned towards her to look for that smile and those eyes that could lead me anywhere. That instant I let go of all of my pain, my tears wanted to envelop her, make a warm river for her to lay in. My closed throat wanted to open and yell to the reason why her eyes watered and her heart shrank. My heavy arms wanted to lift the world and hand it to her, give her anything that could heal her heart, lead her back to happiness. I rested my head on her again. My mouth opened, trying to find the words, the perfect solution.
“Mom, what if we get a really, really, really tall ladder and climb up to see him?”