Thursday, March 25, 2010

Smallest Printer Footprint

Night 's ID. How deep is the Ocean


sleepless night at the Lighthouse.


thoughts that crowd the mind too quickly to be fixed, a persistent sense of the senseless vigil that leaves no way out.


A glance out the window, from the top of the tower, just below the lantern lit that sends her bright eyes on the horizon, the storm of recent days has given way to a calmer ondegiare water, but the sea has not yet subsided, the sky is still dark, barely lit by a pale reflection of red, a sign of a moon that is going to be at its peak, and you know, when the eye reaches the perfect silver circle tides are restive, the motion of water and do Anime restless, seething with strange silent energy.


unaccounted for, a sense mutation dwells inside, son of past mistakes and frivolities, of broken dreams and lost desires, routes crossed and shipwrecks that they tell one another ... questions, together with images of a distant past that never was made and how it would be poturo of a future just as far, that seems far more elusive, shrouded in sea \u200b\u200bfoam and mist of dreams.
A feeling of change, reconstruction fills up the deepest corner of the Soul, by asking questions that have no immediate answers, but that already lie within, struggling to emerge, to be crisp and clear, but they are lying in 'unconscious, the same place from which our ghosts and our monsters. Evil goblins, generated by 'ID that undermine the body and the psyche, often tortured, even deadly duel to keep these answers impregnable.

Research between what would be, who should be and what could be the search for a fictitious place in the world that it is not clear and that the sextant can be calculated only approximately, so the sky is dark and the stars covered.


But all this does not bring agony, not now, not in this place tonight to declare a truce ee anxiety gives way to the possibilities of tomorrow and to calculate probability of success, a glimpse glimmers of victory.


Navigation Maps Broken
We know that nothing is fixed, but rather, everything changes with the speed of a favorable wind that blows the sail and pushes the vessel at full speed on the thirst of the ocean, then turn into a storm that is rolling over and over the hull, but also the face of this ever-changing range of uncertainty, we old sailors know that tomorrow the sun will rise again and return to that new winds blowing towards our direction and we'll be back on deck chart a course lost with the sextant and compass in one hand in the other, thinking of our mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters who are waiting at the entrance of the harbor as every trip, no matter how far, no matter how long.


Although the vessel sank, the lost cargo, they do not care and we will wait forever and even though, ready to greet us with joy and love as the first day.


A whistle echoes from far away ... a mermaid, little points of light ... someone is going home, in this dark night.


That whoever is lost along the Routes and Maps Lost Broken can follow the light of the lantern in the night watches and find the way home.


Andrea.

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