A Conversation with the Angel

I am aware that this topic may become a recurring one in my blog. Every creative person faces this moment when it seems that a white cloud envelops your body and thoughts. It is not that I have nothing to say, on the opposite, perhaps it is that there is a lot inside. Much that needs to come out, because as I have said, writing is therapy for me.

Maybe it's just the wing of an angel that protects me from myself and that's why it keeps me silent.

Maybe it's that busy loneliness that few would understand and most would identify as madness.

Maybe... I shouldn't worry and just go out with my camera to exorcise all my demons.

Maybe I just need adrenaline.

Maybe, maybe... I really don't care if you understand me or not. I just leave my trace, I leave my feelings behind a door and maybe you'll find a veil here in which you can see yours.

I am a coward... (yes, I am a coward). I didn't walk away from the main street. I couldn't. I was afraid. So much silence, blows, so much silence, the wind martyring the fabric of a flag. Too much silence and also too many graves... it was terrible.

There where my heart is, a hole was made. I stopped breathing many times. I thought about the angel who guards me. And maybe she was near... maybe she was watching over me. I choose to think so.