I feel like going out for a pizza…with that pizzaman 😉 Gnocco!
The tumult in the heart
keeps asking questions.
And then it stops and undertakes to answer
in the same tone of voice.
No one could tell the difference.
Uninnocent, these conversations start,
and then engage the senses,
only half-meaning to.
And then there is no choice,
and then there is no sense;
until a name
and all its connotation are the same.
I can’t say what I think
I don’t think what I say
It’s all a big lie
[inspired on Piraboy]
I’ve lived with my family for about 20 years. Since then, I’ve lived in different cities, with roommates and now alone, due to work and study reasons.
In all this years my family has always had a cat as a pet. At least one, inside the house, considered part of the family.
We had always chosen a male cat to live with us.
But male cats disappear, they don’t live long with you, unless they get castrated, and we didn’t use to do it before.
Then finally we got a female. After six months she had other 5 cats, all beautiful like her.
Now all six live there with my family. We call them “our cats” and each one has a name and a personality.
I don’t live there anymore but I consider them “my cats” too.
And all return home after a walk, and use our bodies as sofas [ I become a cat sofa also when I go there to visit], which we love.
The house is very simple but they have a big backyard with trees and sometimes other cats come to live there, in the backyard.
My mother feeds them but she doesn’t call them “our cats”.
When asked she says: “Oh, no, this is not mine, he just lives in the backyard”.
I think other people don’t understand it very well but we do.
One of those backyard cats eventually comes to visit the house. First they spy carefully from an open door.
Sometimes they decide to enter and even rub our legs or feet.
Well, try to touch them. They’ll run away like a rocket.
So, after a few tries, we learn that they may decide to approach more every now and then but we are never ever allowed to do the same. That’s their nature. And we learn to deal with each one.
The ones that want to become our cats and the ones who seem to say: “Hey, I don’t wanna be your cat! I’m just rubbing your legs”.
This is a truth about cats but also a good metaphor for some people.
They’re all just following their nature. And communicating the way they can.
There are no wrong choices.
There are choices we make and choices we don’t have enough faith to make.
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
by Elizabeth Bishop
What I don’t know
I don’t know how to know
Will I ever get to know?