Writing becomes an arduous task when all
the words seem to disappear from you. No feeling of any nature inside, only the
heart doing its biological function, also the lungs and all the organs, like a
soulless machine.
Time to start, wake up, take a shower,
eat something, preference something healthy, otherwise guilt raises. Workout to
balance the stress or to feel alive and privileged, get dressed, go to work time
to finish and repeat all over again, that is how the words are lost.
However, in some very tight spaces of
that gearing, there are millimetres of flesh where blood still pulses, and intangible
things are suspended in the air preventing the inexorable action of time. The
atoms float peacefully, colours and meanings go arising, connecting to each
other, and creating senses, sensations, touches, beauties, meanings, smiles,
life itself in a different gravity.
Everyone has those millimetres where we
hide and protect our essentials, our capsules of fresh air and wild horses to
ease life’s callosity.
