Storm
"Existence is not an eternal galloping among the brambles but a silent sway between hope and daze, between frenzied wakefulness and stillness ... Sometimes they will say that your sensitivity is wasted time, but you will soon understand that it is a wonderful gift, to be held tenaciously to the center of the heart, a special gift that illuminates the forehead, and the look, of amazement, and gives you the opportunity to look at life perceiving its enchantment in stubbornly looking out onto the eternal of a small flower, along the
... despite the knees broken your wings will still take flight and you will cling strongly to a slice of light above your head. You will write verses, you will rise like a sun hidden among clouds of salt, and love will be light and dark, sublime torment, capable of lifting you up to heaven, of flowing into your heart, becoming hope. And you will discover that the joy of life is in waiting, in the fluctuating game of chiaroscuro, in the unraveling and recomposing of the sky after the storm…. "
- Thea Matera
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Photo @giuseppebaldassarri
