Hide and seek

Happiness seemed unachievable sometimes, when the day woke gray and raining, the world in tranquil rest under the drops of water.
And then soon enough there was a cluster of daisies and it seemed like happiness was just hiding around the corner. Like a silly child, playing hide and seek with me - all I had to do was walk a bit more and I'd spot her. But then she would have already hid in a different place, and I'd have to search again. 

Comentários

Postar um comentário

Postagens mais visitadas deste blog

Rant on Youth

I wish they had told me how hard it was to be young. I wish I had learned in school about this sad phase of uncertainty that was going to taint me if I chose the road less traveled by. If I didn't get into uni like many of the others, if I breathed in and out instead of just rushing with life without even breathing as I would have done otherwise. I wish I knew how bitter uncertainty would taste so that I could be prepared, so that I could know it's a passing phase and all. I don't really believe my future is dark but I have no real proof I'm on the right track, and if I could only find an indication of that. I have no idea what to do with myself in order to be useful, to become a productive citizen of life and the world and not simply a mediocre working ant, I want to produce yes but not for the system, I won't work for capitalism or the government, I want to work for people for my community my elders my children things that I believe in, I want to serve happiness. 
Leia mais

On Pigeons

I knew pigeons died in the same abstract way one knows, for example, that pedestrians die. You hear about it, you can rationalize the fact that it is true, they must sometimes die, considering the risks and all. But if you haven’t seen it happen, the idea is as thin as air. And if something is intangible, it’s as good as if it didn’t exist.                 That morning, the death of pigeons came into existence for me. Happily trotting along my usual path, I encountered a dead pigeon. Crushed would be a more accurate description. You could barely tell it was a pigeon, or that it had ever been one, if it weren’t for the wings. Two widespread white wings, plastered on the pavement, on top of the zebra crossing. There wasn’t blood, guts or any sort of gory evidence of its once-living nature; just two white wings and a gray mass where the body should have been. It seemed hopelessly poetic: wings that once crossed the skies plastered to the ground.                 The next day, I p
Leia mais

Cores e texturas

A UWC abriu a minha vida para uma tonelada de cores e estampas que antes não eram. Encheu meu feed de notícias com recados dos quatro cantos do mundo, com lutas de grupos que eu não sabia da existência, com fotos do mundo inteiro e cantares que não são os meus. Encheu de ritmos de outras terras, de olhos escuros profundos e olhos azuis translúcidos, de verde das árvores tropicais e de marrom e branco das montanhas. Encheu minhas mãos de texturas, esfregou meus pés com a terra áspera dos vales no outono, com a fragilidade quebradiça de folhas amarelas que as árvores, em sua não-necessidade, devolvem ao solo para enfeite das ruas da cidade. A UWC me deu um pôr-do-sol cor de rosa e as nuvens flutuantes sob o azul do céu de verão em Dilijan. Me deu um senso de continuidade: cruzar a escola toda manhã e ver a montanha mudando, as árvores se vestindo de verde, depois amarelo, laranja, vermelho, despindo-se em marrom, vestindo-se brancas de gelo, até que lentamente a neve derrete e elas se v
Leia mais