Author: Possimiste

Gosh, this is so strange to feel the memories of a stranger floating around inside you. A story  that I had the chance to read. We are all writers in a way, aren’t we?

 My heart-shaped glasses that nobody can take away from me.

They are pink colored…but still transparent.Everything you look through them is still real, but with a magic glow surrounding it. The world has been so  beautiful place for me  since I found them once from the woods when I was little.

But I could have never imagined they were so rare…

Why did each one of you want to escape this reality as the world was such a dark place?

#1 into a virtual reality….

#2 into the world of altered state of mind that is maybe so beautiful but so hard to get out of

3#into the world of numbers, graphs,sleeping pills and endless problems

Maybe those inward worlds of yours were very interesting…but it is so hard to know because they are so hard to share and connect to.

What about sunsets and birds, light breezes, different smells in the air, the sounds of an early morning, the excitement about a new mysterious day, the taste of your favourite food, starshine, getting a new thought, the power of a shared word. Beautiful things that the world gives us could connect us all if we’d take a look and notice them.Or can they only be seen through heart-shaped glasses…

Whatever, my loves…..

 

Wow, it must be pretty hard to live with those heart-shaped glasses on if she’s the only one around wearing them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’d like to show you something,” said the caesar “here’s her little diary she was once upon a time  filling out every night before falling asleep”

 

That’s enough. I have been watching her  for almost…what they call 3 months on Earth.I have been silent because there has just been nothing to write about >her days look all the same: perfect from the outside but filled with a cocktail of alcohol, orange juice and tears from the moment she gets home. She is the saddest picture I have ever seen. I can’t do this anymore.

She  “If I had all her charm and money, “I told to a tiny caesar next to me, “I would cover the white walls of this house from inside with all kinds of colours.

I’d turn it into a piece of art.

I would fill it often with music, laughter and good spirited strangers that the universe wants to connect there and then. It would be a space where moments of beauty can happen.

sometimes I’d just love to be there alone and have the starry sky moments just for myself so that I could get to know myself more and more deep and play guitar at midnight  following the rhythm of my heartbeat.

I would travel the world and taste all kinds of different foods.

…feel different winds and rains on my skin.

…hear how the waves on the seas of the world make different sounds.

…how the sands feel different to walk on.

…how the birds sing different.

…how  my hair dries at different speeds.

…how my walking speed changes in different environments.

…how it feels to miss something or someone…or would I ever miss anything at all when I know I’m not missing out a single moment of meaningfulness and beauty  in my life?

I would squeeze as much juice as I can out of every orange in my garden and drink it pure and fresh.

“But you are not her,” replied the little caesar.

“True…there must be  a reason why she has muted everything, right?”

“Of course there is,”

“If I were her….WAIT! Could I please be her for a moment of  just…enough  time?Would that be somehow possible?”

 

 

You, little humans,are so amusing…

I am going to show you something about home. Take a look  at this beautiful city down there. What if we could see through all these stone walls and locked doors and take a peek into the lives people live…

Do you notice that fancily dressed lady walking down the street?

Of course I do. It is really hard not to notice her. She is seems perfect: probably in her 30s with a content little smile decorating her tainted lips. She walks confidently towards the last house of the street, which happens to be her home – a beautiful white clay house.

Before entering she grabs 5 sunset coloured oranges from one of the many orange trees growing in her garden. As soon as the lady has locked the door she sits by the kitchen table,takes off her shoes and squeezes herself a glass of fresh orange juice.

 

She takes a sip but her face clearly tells that there is something not right about her drink and she does not wait too long to fix it. Vodka.Straight out of the fridge. Girl knows what the girl needs.

Vodka and orange juice – I can see some sophisticated sparkle lighting in her deep blue eyes.

As soon as she is done with the drink…

she is not done.

There is going to be another one.

And another one.

She is never done

until  the spirit has reached her spirit.