Glimpse

 

When humbleness transcend our human condition, we will be able to see that, all this time, there was something bigger than us.

Something unmeasurable.
Something adults can't put numbers on it, parents can't choose destiny and politicians can't rape in our minds.
Something that, someday, somehow, we lost in our little bag at school, in our Grandma's lap, in our first day of each day.

 

We think we're grown up.
But, the essence of growing up is fucked up.

'Cause the ice cream doesn't have the same taste anymore.
And the soccer ball is no longer a soccer ball.
It's just a round 10'' diameter circumference.
Boring.

That's why intuitive impulses drives me to the deepest memories I can remember.
And when you loose it in your lips, in your hands, in your white canvas of teeth, I'm in peace.

Grains of sad sands in no hands,
Whispering the thrill in a non sense.

It's the portrait of the modern times.
A guy reading J.K.Rowling.
A kid reading Philip Kotler.
And The Little Prince inhaling the dust.

That little something has a name.
It's called glimpse.

A white wall can be just a white wall.
But also the sketch of a dream.

Think about it.