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Storie di vite più o meno vissute. Di tarli ,mondine e di vecchi sentimenti. Come quadri ai vecchi sentimenti,. Al muro polveroso della dimenticanza. Queste cose non parlano più la nostra lingua,. Distani ventimila leghe dai nostri gesti ormai maturi,. E pure le loro inmmagini crocefisse dal tempo. Sono come un tarlo di titanio dentro gli occhi,. Se di giorno si confondono nel traffico dei volti.
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Friday, July 9, 2010. Thursday, February 25, 2010. Let us Live the Gospel for their sakes! I rejoice that my story has already been written, not in ink, pencil or anything perishable, but with the blood of Christ that can never be erased. Friday, February 19, 2010. When breathing is all there is.
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There are times in life when buildings fall. Cities crumble, time stalls. Are lined up and shot against the wall. But He has risen and so has hope. So suffer no longer; death hangs by the rope. Mirror reflects a troubled body. Stare into those coal black eyes. Your mouth gapes toward the sky. Those eyes will stay and watch you burn.