Anniversaries ... anniversaries have a magical, special day of the year are as of stargates transform the ordinary 24 hours in stardust, memories in reality. Are the days of relativity: space and time are mixed, past and present play hide and seek, dancing like elves and fairies in the forest of ideas. All lived in the 365-year-old days back extraordinarily timely and you can live again, just thinking.
There are "birthday" beautiful, happy, romantic, full of passion, while others made of pain, anger, sadness ... Behold, the former tend to escape, but the latter will attach themselves to windy start lining the walls of heart, then spread out under your skin - cm / cm -, then wedged into the nerve endings and travel knitted jersey fabric all your senses to the brain and as a great box holds everything, in fact, is more painful than when holding it.
Then there are the anniversaries that you wait for a year, sure they will be the first case, and instead just the day before, like black matryoshkas, you open the boxes and all that woo-doo when you believed turns as in a vision of opium. The colors are somber, but the spectral contours remain inexplicably sharp, too much to be just a bad dream. These are the features of a reality that abhors but that is yours. Everything you've chased him into another dimension in your swoops and stabs you without mercy, and as a San Sebastian remains nailed to the stake of your naivety. The same as you it was mistaken for fireflies lanterns, and a wonderful man worse than many others. And as Dorian Gray, the angel of light outfit is not that the king of pain.
It remains only to celebrate with your disappointment with the meeting who had no mercy and has treated you like that in office, and spoke of little love would never forget, when just before and just after you touched, kissed, and flooded with pleasure another woman. Any, just like you. The same is then said to have transformed his little love in a great feeling and I was crowned with lies and deception transformed the faded red of the passion of nell'arancione nonsense, lie in the green, in the yellow of bitterness, nell'indaco of sadness, tears of purple, blue in oblivion ... and lame that rainbow of red you've been through, hopping, day of the year just past, oblivious to the fact that by 'other end there would have been the pot of gold but the lake of disappointment.
04/08/2008
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