wake up in the desert. The warm sand caresses my face. I reach my eyes to anything around me. I have no hurry to join. Detumescence I stretch every muscle in my body. Open and close the hands. Move each finger of my feet and make faces sticking out his tongue.
I sit and let the soft wind clearing the hair from my face.
I have to chart a course, I listen to my inner compass. It is important to the direction it takes, the story may be very different depending on the end of my first steps.
For a moment I let myself get caught in thoughts of destiny and that someone guides my steps but I quickly disconnected from them. I will not abandon the invisible ink of what is written.
I like the vastness that I have before me. Nothing is so beautiful, patient waiting to be filled with pieces of me.
Maybe draw two trees in a while is starting to get hot. I have to be cautious of any stroke is eternal, there are blots on the tables of life.
sometimes saddens me to recall the books that I colored for fear of its outcome.
Yikes! I have hunger. I draw a zumito and two toast with tomato. How wonderful! Too bad I was not aware of the power of the case of paintings that gave me birth. If I knew that I was the artist to shape and color to my life, mmmmmmm ... abstract some have fallen.
write down this in my blog, I remember in my complaints of this.
definitely my way to the south.
sound in my soul four bells when I say the word south. There is a South defined, it is not the south of the country.
just my south from where I am.
definitely my way to the south.
sound in my soul four bells when I say the word south. There is a South defined, it is not the south of the country.
just my south from where I am.
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