Scrierile mele despre viaţă: Secret

4/10/11

Secret

In viziunea mea, imi apar scene din viitor, pe care le simt si nu vreau sa le inlatur din momentul prezent.
Aer proaspat, picaturi de ploaie simpatice, miros de cafea proaspat macinata, privirea lui, clipele de tacere, plimbari nesfarsite prin drumuri de labirint, nori care se risipesc, rasete de copii, intrebari la care stim raspunsul, aroma de iarba proaspata, flori, lapte si ciocolata, poze, multe poze...zambetele noastre, lacrimile mele de fericire, vocea lui usor de recunoscut din alte mii, secretele doar de noi stiute, lume ce ne surade din mers, telefoane inchise, imbratisari nenumarate...cateva zile, dar pe care noi le traim la intensitate maxima, de parca ar fi ultimele pe care le mai avem...fara jumatati de masura si regrete inutile, nimic complicat. Totul simplu, usor de intuit si asteptat.

Aer boem, jumatatea lunii martie, aerul fericirii. Dorit, avut, perfect. Nu mai exista dor sau lacrimi acum, simt ca am totul, iar el stie ca este tot ce am mai bun si mai scump. Nu i-am spus, pentru ca a intuit dintotdeauna...
Ne-am ghicit mastile unul altuia si in prezenta celuilalt am ramas doar noi. Zambetul subtil de pe chipul lui este cel mai frumos lucru din lume...caldura aceea pe care o emana, privirea lui de Om bun.

Dansul nostru la apus, muzica in surdina, pe strazile cunoscute deja, cuvinte simple si sentimente noi... Indiferent in ce oras se intampla, Liège sau Cádiz, Londra sau Nice, suntem noi si stralucim fara oprire.

" Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more...
And I'm waiting for you. "

"If it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. Unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it. If you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don't do it. If you're doing it for money or fame, don't do it. If you're doing it because you want women in your bed, don't do it. If you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don't do it. If it's hard work just thinking about doing it, don't do it. If you're trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. If it never does roar out of you, do something else. If you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you're not ready. Don't be like so many writers, don't be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self-love. The libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. Don't add to that. Don't do it. Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. Unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it. When it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. There is no other way. And there never was." - Charles Bukowski

“Sit down. Inhale. Exhale. The gun will wait. The lake will wait. The tall gall in the small seductive vial will wait will wait: will wait a week: will wait through April. You do not have to die this certain day. Death will abide, will pamper your postponement. I assure you death will wait. Death has a lot of time. Death can attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is just down the street; is most obliging neighbor; can meet you any moment. You need not die today. Stay here–through pout or pain or peskyness. Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow. Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.”