all of the love we left behind
the net I have scarcely closed because they are not able to use it in a balanced way, to reconcile it with everyday life. like everything to me, or is it white or black. I do not feel at ease in gray, and even consider it at all times, can not adapt to my lifestyle, my person. Today, however, something terrible has happened.
are at the supermarket and do the costs. bananas, a jar of yogurt, pasta, tuna fish, beer, to invade the airspace of a song I do not know who, volume moderate. while ignoring the music you buy is an act for the more obvious, no? and then, after a moment of silence, the plucking of an acoustic guitar creeps in my ears, very slight, and a sense of nostalgia unconscious raises me up, I move away from the crates of fruit, the glow of neon lights, everything.
and his voice, his voice so beautiful to melt a heart, I'm struck by surprise, flooding, and everything ceases to exist. for just seconds, there's only his voice.
cry attacking the adhesive with the weight and the price for bananas, and I wonder what is really authentic, what is really a life or an emotion, and now the importance of myself is defined by that voice and the universe linked to it, now submerged, can make me suffer and enjoy at the same time in a sublime way.
my world falls gently pushed to the fall and protected from the blow with his music.
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