the blink of an eye

And just like that, four months flew by. I vividly remember the first days of september, when I was so full of energy and hope and determined to make things happen. I look at the calendar and it’s a new year. Not necessarily a new begining though: we only build from what has been seeded. And it’s tough, there’s no forgetting where you’re from, what you’ve done; like paint there’s only brushing over things until you are satisfied with the result, occasionally covering things up with white hoping for a place to start over.

I am not the person I was four months ago. It is crazy to thing how so little time can change a person so much, but I’ve grown, considerably. I made new friends, new relationships, earned recognition, made a place for myself and had to leave suddenly all that behind. I built projects and poured my heart in them, because that is the only way I know how to do things. I laughed, I wept, I feared, I loved. I have so much I want to say, yet so little words to explain how I feel.

I feel like the only thing I know how to do is make connections, random connections between everything. Jumping from one idea to another in a desperate attempt to relate, convey something. I feel as if my entire being is a mismatched patchwork of everything I’ve ever seen and heard. Even saying that reminds me of a video I watched and talked about in this other article. If you had a look at my bedroom you’d probably understand better. There is no decoration, rather a meticulous assemblage of everything that makes me me. It is the visual, externalized representation of myself as a person (please read the article I mentioned). But what I am trying to say is that the media I consume heavily influences me, it feeds my internal world. Among those recent reflexions:

– there is no true good or true evil, the importance of found families (The Witcher TV show)

– words living inside of you, being the cartrographer of your own world, loving people and dealing with grief (Aristotle and Dante dive into the waters of the world, truly moving)

– the immense fascination with the deep waters and deep space (the 10+ postcards, art books and novels I’ve collected)

– the reckless urge to scream at the top of your lungs because the world is fucked up and unfair and you cannot humanly save it all by yourself, all you can do is take it one step at a time and push through with all the kindness and rebellion you can muster while carrying hope like a banner on your heart, knowing that it is fragile, but strong in its fragility – if that makes any sense at all

I’ve been meaning to say more but I got lost in thoughts and anyway, there’s a time for everything. Peace and calm be upon you everybody.

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