]...[ shadows and dust ]...[

Live as adventurous as prudently!

There are those moments in live that choice cannot be chosen! What must be lies under, waiting… watching… hearing… learning!… The foreseeable future of a choice unchosen is as real as the actions that have been chosen. The ways that we take landed us to a goal, but the unchosen path will always take us to unexplored regions and to unknown situations.

Freedom is the reflection of the choice that’s unchosen. There is no escape what so ever. We can imagine situations, we can remember feelings, we can reconstruct in the mind images from a distant past, the actual present or from a near future, but the bonds that connect them all are so unpredictable and random that only by the effort of reason or hope we can see a time continuous line crossing them all. Even so, it’s not that that rule us all.

The unchosen choice is a shadow above and all around us as we are the dust that feed her. And how heavy is to carry out and how painful to bear within. Although this reality came known by several peoples and clearly experienced by them, just a few relied, day after day, connect to her, not by choice or election, not by destine or necessity, but because they are forever more the unchosen! And those are rare beings of light, beings of shadows and dust, here and there of the unchosen.

In hard times and desperate situations, in unthinkable conditions and dead ends, at the bridge of the end they appear – coming from nowhere within everywhere… dead like me… – silently give us a hand, pulling us from the shadows and showing us the dust within. But whom they might be? They aren’t dead like my, they are deadlier than me, drifting underneath existence and arising above her, looking back and forth from a suspended horizon: whom they might be, have I asked?! They are my history and my story – before and after me –, the gaps that I cannot speak, the silence that I’ve shut down, the gesture that I’ve never made… they bring out all the things I’ve never made and all those I will make: I look at them and it’s the impossible of me that I perceive, I look again and it’s the possible of me that I see.

Shadows and dust – that’s their live and mine condition.

Where not is – dying to become

We walk with hurry through the streets in to the buildings, in to the cars, in to the tube, on the site walks... We are never satisfied where we are, because where we are, we are not; where we are its just – and it will always be – a place to be. We need what we don’t have and those who have what they want, are still seeking, looking around, wandering in wonder if, if it’s there an if that can become an is. How can it be possible? Is there any logic – if logic is there – in seeking for something that is unknown? Are there any things in your known feelings that can connect with that “something”? And even so – if there is –, when and if we get it, how can we know that we get it, if we don’t know it?

[How can I reach you if we cannot talk to each other, and even though we could, it’s unspeakable the ways of disagreements and misunderstandings that we come up with – we unbury your souls, with an unspeakable pleasure, just to bruise one another –? The time we lose just to get by the opened bruises – you said once that my eyes were the sunset horizon and I believed you and I told you that we were forever, we told each other that always and forever where the ties that bind us… – was not enough to overlay the silence growing up between us. Time as passed by and we become arid deserts, two monsters powerlessness facing our loneliness of being as we were: when did we start living dead in life time? When did my words become daggers leaded to you? When did you become that hard and cold wall of carelessness? When we lost courage of truth and believe of honesty, there was where we start deceasing – and how truly easy was the bend of our hard slip].