Possibly Could Be

(The Wanderer above the Mists by Caspar David Friedrich, 1817-1818) Empty spaces to be oneself... Empty shelters with no noises, no trouble nor judgements around... Empty spaces to find the holly ways hidden under forbidden bodies, the true sense of desire, the meaningful search of the equal, the beat of a wild heart in that empty silence... Empty spaces to fill with the open landscapes of the soul and the unwastable demand from skin, flesh and hunger... I'm still looking for those empty lands where infinite fountains of honey and hope, as the ingredients for my very instant of happiness, can always source from the mouths of angels playing free far above those glory spaces.

Life is something we tend to messure, we usually think about and even regret at some point, but what's life? I do see life like a lifelong bag of feelings, a simple line through time, a passing knife letting us scars and sorrows, a fresh breath of loving moments, a treat for madness, a whole world of what ifs , and at the end, a brief instant of chaos and order, of happiness and dispair, of hideouts and fears, of faith and courage. We can try to manage the different elements surronding our lives, we can try deep and even harder each day, but life is, above all, an umpredictable mission, and we can't control its course or whether its train is taking us to. People we may encounter, and if we get to know some of those people well, they will teach us and give us signals about what ways we could take, leave or keep tracing. Moreover, they will learn from us the same. So, even if life is a mistery treasure, we can do something about it and play within that free exc...