There are
places suspended between reality and imagination; often are the exact double of
a mind place. Places visited never reviewed or long sought and never found, in
one way or another, that find space in the mind and remain there waiting, sometimes
for a lifetime. Places to go back or hopefully come back, which in time become
a symbol in which catalyze each other thought and sensation.
Places or emotions stemming from a trip, an experience, an event, a meeting; more often simply a memory of something that we have captured and remained inside. An image as a thin vision that returns over time, fueled by a smell, a blend of light, sound, an insignificant detail or the yearning for something that has taken hold of us, but it vanished in the folds of life. Dimensions in which every detail contains one single desire, perhaps unexplainable and indescribable, that sometimes we will carry around forever. If in that place were asked to stones, the blades of grass, to water or birds, they would be unaware of everything; those feelings are just inside us, suspended between dream and reality.
A place no place, in which the end of the journey is not important and where the route is everything, strewn with obstacles, doubts and thoughts, desires and waste, good feelings and existential anguish. Every moment is good to return to a mind place, year after year, even when the reality and time have transformed everything, as does the incessant wind on the hard stone, even when it escapes us a sense of why. That smells, the colors, the stone or that color of the sky, remain within us indelibly, like a symphony that resonates a irresistible echoes.
Places or emotions stemming from a trip, an experience, an event, a meeting; more often simply a memory of something that we have captured and remained inside. An image as a thin vision that returns over time, fueled by a smell, a blend of light, sound, an insignificant detail or the yearning for something that has taken hold of us, but it vanished in the folds of life. Dimensions in which every detail contains one single desire, perhaps unexplainable and indescribable, that sometimes we will carry around forever. If in that place were asked to stones, the blades of grass, to water or birds, they would be unaware of everything; those feelings are just inside us, suspended between dream and reality.
A place no place, in which the end of the journey is not important and where the route is everything, strewn with obstacles, doubts and thoughts, desires and waste, good feelings and existential anguish. Every moment is good to return to a mind place, year after year, even when the reality and time have transformed everything, as does the incessant wind on the hard stone, even when it escapes us a sense of why. That smells, the colors, the stone or that color of the sky, remain within us indelibly, like a symphony that resonates a irresistible echoes.