Inner Babel / Babel Interior

Nada na Natureza é completamente perfeito e é aí que reside sua perfeição.

Fina e delicada dobradura. Branca, no meio da sala, apresenta-se diminuta, mas multiplica-se em sua sombra projetada. Símbolo da beleza que se estende de mim ao outro e a mim retorna. Pequeno gesto e presente que me traz alento e me lembra porque importa o que faço. Porque depois de escrever alguém dobra um lindo e leve Tsuru e me devolve as asas que eu ajudei a soltar. 

From my hotel window, I watch a procession of colorful umbrellas pass on yet another rainy day in Budapest. I think about what I've left behind, things    that could not have been, dreams never fulfilled. A rainy day, not much different from any other day of this week, in this place that  is, to me, a door to the unknown east and all the mysterious stories of my childhood. Umbrellas parade around the walls of the Fishermen's bastion, the color of lime, orange, red, purple, light blue and bright pink. I see them walking around through the drops of rain that distort the view through my window. I take a sip of my capuccino.  I woke up late, the cold makes my tropical soul lazy, and I wait for the Hungarian lady to throw me out of the breakfast room, telling me and the young couple on the table at the corner that breakfast time is over. I look at the couple and I guess they had been awake for a while, but had been too caught up with each other to remember breakfas...

Learn to deal with your own boredom. You are not allowed in the playground anymore. You've grown up! Your legs don't fit inside the toys and the rides are no longer as exciting. Deal with your tedious moments. Struggle not to fall into old habits, not to fall for deceptively easy temptations. Focus on your movement, the deep diving into your soul, into your needs and dreams. Take time into your hands. Use it well! Stare at the skies, the stars, but also the dark intervals between them, the trees, the leaves, dead, alive, their hues, their importance in the scheme of Nature.  Do not underestimate the importance of what is dead, or dying, but do not let it consume you. Appreciate life, beginning to end! Take pauses, when you need. Do not impose a different pace then your heartbeats'.  Daydream, because you must. Make plans! Hope! Remember who you are! Be there, with you, each step of the way. Find out what you're not.  Submerge your amphibious self, feed from the...

What a relief! In the end What's left Is a leaf

"It's ok to be in pieces!", I told myself today. It's ok to be in pieces as long as you still have a core. As long as there is still a thread connecting the fragments of you. It doesn't even have to be a thick thread, you know? Any thread will do.  A while ago,  I saw a quote by Emma Watson, the young Harry Potter's Hermione, and she was saying that she finally knew who she was. "Wow!", I thought at first, "She's so young and already knows who she is! I'm 43 and I have no idea!" That quote haunted me for a while. It remained in the back of my mind.  It made me look back at the paths I've walked, the crossroads and corners I've stood at, contemplating traffic, speeding up or slowing down, the steep roads I had to struggle to run, or drag myself through, and the many moments I've remained there, contemplating green and red traffic lights, simply refusing to budge.  I remembered sometimes too when I really knew who...

 I walk around hearing in my mind sentences which start with "Once upon a time".           Ando por aí ouvindo na minha cabeça frases que começam com "Era uma vez"