She still remembers the stab in her soul the day she set a foot in the concrete jungle made of dreams. The wildness of the air, the rhythm of the streets. The energy she was breathing was beating her heart, leaving her breathless. Inebriated with too much life. For the first time.
Young enough to feel everything was possible; old enough to had left far behind the magical tales and the essence of innocence.
She observed and observed, the craziness of the world, the best and the worst, life was happening at that subway station. “Excuse me, miss, could you kindly let me know how to get there?”
It was then, that swift instant when she realized that restlessness deep inside, her peace flying far, far away. She was part of that madness. That moment of shake when she knew that her life, as she knew it, would never be the same.
Pseudònim: Charlie Kelmeckis
Nostalgic tears of rain caress the window and run down the glass, frozen, like my soul. I can glimpse these eyes starring at me from the other side of the street. I am alone, playing wording games with my mind, melting sugar realities in a bittersweet cup of tea that could perfectly be called life.
When I feel the gaze, I realize it is not coming from any specific person; it is not coming from any specific place. This vision stands for all my fears, all my absences, all my challenges. And they are all looking at me. Right now. Expectant, hopeful.
“Breath”, my mind seems to mutter, while a beam of light tries to sneak in between the clouds.
“Let them pierce your heart, let them intoxicate you. Stop hiding. Come back to all your demons and turn them into the best part of you”.
Pseudònim: Neil Perry
They had been my choices all along, but they didn’t seem mine, not at any time. So, when I stepped out of the car and he whispered those words that immediately soothed my mind, I realized that he wasn’t exactly worth the life we lost in getting to him. ‘Laura, remember you are wonderful’ –he had said. I remembered, remembered, remembered until the word had more power than the memory. My brain collapsed and my pride came into light to rescue me, with its shiny armor and its spade bathed in fear. Indeed, it fought with its cunning while my heart was bleeding in love. I was becoming that amorphous empty silhouette and while my heart would fill the inside, my ballerina would awake, shyly. Just a few were able to see the gracious ballerina with armor and spade, the rest would just watch my tears roll down my eyes for years and years.
Pseudònim: Flora Justes