There was night in inwardness.

Por vezes a essência advém do que vem. Na maioria, não vem. Existe apenas. Por vezes passa. Outras fica. Ás vezes torna-se, contorna-se. Tornasse o que ficou por ficar. Ou o que jamais ficaria. No entanto, e no fundo: There are white nigths for us all. Sleep tight and follow the sirens. ;) There was night in the essence.

Dreamt of:

Everything was blue. Everything was grey.
Black dark with some white sheets all over. Empty, blank, with no lines of herself.
In the wich they call 'simple' it wasn't simple at all.
I asked. I answered.
All again. The same old questions.
The simple questions in the hardest answers.

I recon the background sound.
Some Sigur, some Strokes, some Jamie, or Howard recently.
The bench of all of my dreams.
The same shrubs, or only the flowers.
The same rocks. As you look at the walls of the empty past.

The sheets still blank and empty.
Some lines come to appear.

I look foward and see the emptyness of a graveyard.
Feels like home. Childish.
Someone comes and ask.
The answer is new. The freedom of all and nothing.
I lost nothing. Apart.

See the crow flying above.
The little child playing in the ground.
The rose with spines undone.
The first lie. But not the last.
See the path to the little jungle.

Hear the howl.
But it as finished.
Saw the dog. That one was lost. Tramp one.
A mice, a cat and finally the dog. The wilding one.

I put the sheets down.
Grab a hand.
Look with the scared eyes of mine.
Nothing is safe. Nothing is sure.

The sheets are now full.
The answer is done.
Just smile and come undone as usual.
One step and start falling.

I'm half full.

Can you hear!?