Trees only watch when verses and dry leaves speak softly together.
Last night I wanted to write this post, but there was one detail that left me speechless: oblivion.
I felt a strong emotion when I read this paper, which is not signed, as you can notice. I was so moved that a tear ran down my cheek. I'm a bit of a fool, yes, you know that.
It's not signed - that's all I kept repeating in my mind.
Who wrote it? - And I wracked my brain mercilessly trying to find some clue or answer there.
This person said it, foreshadowed it somehow: I'm an amnesiac.
Whispering footsteps heart like a wild horse one shadow, one thought.
I'll try to get that bad thought out of my file, lest my subconscious end up accepting it. She (because I've heard it is feminine as consciousness is masculine) doesn't discriminate between good and bad, only carries out orders. She is a very capable employee. I would say the best at bringing at the right time the things we keep in our folders and drawers.
Now all I can think about is the next excursion that is already planned to a place that promises beauty. And you know that where there is beauty there is also magic.
I took these pictures on my previous trip to Playa Larga. I'm not good at writing Haikus, but yesterday on the Días Ecencyales Discord show that was the exercise and the challenge. So, I decided to bring a bit of poetry to the #Monomad, and to write I used my own photos as inspiration.
It's nostalgia for everything I've read among my letters, photos, postcards and memories... desire perhaps to receive verses (((signed, please))) - because you know, I don't want to see the face of oblivion again.
The seagulls fly in the masts of memory and breeze is a sweet song.
You touched my soul on a late evening sea, calm and stormy.
I couldn't say a word while it was hidden the sun in the cloud.
The eager traveller left a hat under the tree and saw a raven's shadow.
(I'm not good at Haiku) - I'm sorry
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