Sometimes I slam doors without even realizing it, I leave them locked behind my back arched and go into unexplored rooms and full of sorrow hidden in the shadows.
Yes, I would like to evoke the terrible significance of finding a balance, which is only possible when you have more, or if you have not ever had. It hurts, dammit. How to tear a strip of skin and let the wound bleed, in a desperate search for a gauze to stop the bleeding.
I am reminded of a picture of me when I was still too young to know what it meant to live, which zompetto around the bedroom of my brother, touching everything I get. Sensing for the first time the smell of a wood cabinet, the brightness of a ray of sunlight that penetrates the blinds cutting the dusty air, the pain of hitting the head with a corner of the bed. Falling, tripping on my stubby legs childish, always helped by someone to get up. Here, the image of me happily explore a room. As I was happy to be able to name all my things. Looking back now, I should enjoy that privilege, because at that age I was to shape the world, and I was to decide, immersed in my ignorance.
But more than anything, I should enjoy the light that filled the room. The light gave shape to my obstacles. I could understand where to go, where to go, what to touch and what to avoid. And if I fell or was going to beat too, getting up was not a problem, because it was easy to learn how to give shape to quell'ostacolo.
E 'was the awareness of the meaning of life to darken my rooms to explore.
God how I miss the bright room.
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