confessions

Times of rephrasing, paraphrasing
old pictures in new frames
new passions burnt out
- she was staring at an ashtray, beautiful, cristal, covered with a ligh layer of smoke and dust
some flames go out due to the slightest breeze
others keep burning deep within even when the cigarette lays untouched in the tray
seemingly unlit - its sparks light it up due to the slightest breeze.

She felt for her throat, and wondered about the unconfortable cough she has been having in the previous weeks.
Was it that she was choking on something?
What was it?
Was it connected to her sudden fear of the dark? Was it really the dark that scared her, or was it rather what may be and was once hidden under...was it a cold body...was it a killing lie...was it something she could not grasp?

There was much not-understood. It was a period of acceptance, a period of changes.
Just when she was about to enter a new room someone took her hand and pulled her elsewhere, and by the time she opened her eyes she was at this wonderful place where no fighting was required, where she was accapted with all her whirlwinds and follishness...

She liked the new place and though it seemed unreal, as the days passed by she did spend more and more time redecorating the rooms. But the unreal feeling kept lingering in her soul.

What a stange thing destiny may be...what a strange feeling when the 'meant to be' clashes your carefully built barricades and you find your soul pushed out in the warmth, naked, unprotected, feeling too many things, contrained to learn to trust again.

New beginning are difficult. Even if this newness is about a new fullness.