The Short Story of the One-Eyed Siamese Cat

Late in a warm afternoon, wandering through a beautiful lonesome park, there was a girl with a pale face and feebler eyes, searching for a place to land and rest. There was a slight breeze, felt as a memory of an old summer. You could hear the silence of the trees and bright flowers, you could feel the emptiness of people.

The girl meandered, driven by the need to be where she could feel her existence and be in stillness.
She was carrying a heavy briefcase holding books, strange sketches, and loose words.
Staring at the leaves against the sky she wished for a place she could belong. Somewhere faraway from everything she knew, but that might feel familiar if somehow someone would recognize her soul.

Reaching the far limits of this park she found an abandoned coffeehouse,with forgotten old chairs and brownish-red tables. She sat down and took her rest. What an amazing place this was, concealed by tall trees and shrubs, little spy-birds enjoying the day's linger. This is not an ordinary place, she thought, I can feel voices reaching my senses and caressing my hands as I had wished. I recognize this quiet world. A mild smile outlined her mouth, and as she was closing her eyes a fragile-looking cat jumped onto her table and lay down, close to her hand, exploring her intentions. Sweet lazy cat, you're my company, alone and free as me, I see you, and I see your pain and bravery, one-eyed siamese. You're receptive to life, ready for hurt, ready for love. We don't have anything to give each other except our own presence. I'll stay here and breathe with you.

Agora percebo
porque é tão assustador mudar.

Não é porque algo estivesse errado
é só por desafiar a vida
para sentir a dor que acompanha cada gesto
como um vício,
heroína

É só por isso
Para sentir que há vida em nós
Que há um pouco de loucura
Que há um pouco de sanidade em questionar a sociedade.

E a dor que nos acompanha no adormecer
Que acorda ao nosso lado
Torna-nos humanos

A tristeza seduz-nos com inspiração
A custo da solidão.
Só e finalmente a escrever.

Lost to be found

When you follow a dream, you lose everything else
Dreams exist in the future,
killing the past as you get further and further away from reality.
Dreams will teach you to dream less.
You’ll sleep for years and one day you’ll wake up
and everything around you will be changed and apart from whom you are now. Like old photos and old joys. I remember who I was.
I remember thinking of life as an empty box wrapped up in a fancy colourful paper. No alarms and no surprises: you'll live, love, you'll get sad, you'll laugh, you'll win and lose friends, you'll work, and you'll dream about a better way to live, people around you will die or you'll die first.

Against all common sense
I chose to confront my doubts
Condemning the future
Appreciating my past
Trying to be proud of who I become
One day I'll look back again and I willl love life.

Words are not enough

The more you think, the more confuse you get
And suddenly nothing makes sense in your head.
You ask for others help,
somehow you believe that you just need the right words
And you wander thru your beliefs and dreams
No longer knowing who you are

Its not death, it’s not the birth of a new self
You’re lost in life
Looking for a reason to fight back your sadness
Searching for a comprehensive look on the crowd
Knowing you’ve chosen to do everything wrong

As your throat hurts from your heart disability
So many times you ask: what have I done?
Life is wrong, imperfect, as failures and bad pranks
But you have yourself
And the only thing you know is that you tried to do your best
Even choosing pain, choosing doubt

I chose to be honest with myself and with the people I love
I love you all. All those that know me for sure…

Give me time to grow, for I’m sorry, I make mistakes…

And all the words in the world trick me.

I make mistakes, sorry.

"That person is a success who has lived well,
laughed often and loved much;
who has gained the respect of intelligent people
and the love of children;
who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
who leaves the world better than he found it,
whether by an improved poppy,
a perfect poem, or a rescued soul;
who never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty
or failed to express it;
who looked for the best in others
and gave the best that he had."

Bessie Anderson Stanley

Why deviant ether...

e·ther

1. 
   Any of a class of organic compounds in which two hydrocarbon groups are linked by an oxygen atom.
2. 
   A volatile, highly flammable liquid, C2H5OC2H5, derived from the distillation of ethyl alcohol with sulfuric acid and used as a reagent and solvent. It was formerly used as an anesthetic. Also called diethyl ether, ethyl ether.
3. 
   The regions of space beyond the earth's atmosphere; the heavens.
4. 
   The element believed in ancient and medieval civilizations to fill all space above the sphere of the moon and to compose the stars and planets.
5. 
   Physics. An all-pervading, infinitely elastic, massless medium formerly postulated as the medium of propagation of electromagnetic waves.