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Rainbow Of Souls
Ecco la mia prima opera vera e propria di scrittura creativa(in inglese).
Sono riuscita a pubblicarlo nel giornalino del college ed ora perchè non qua?!
Postcard from Italy.
“Dear Friend of mine,
The weather is fine,
But Rome has lost its glory.
I don’t know what it’s about
I make my way to a small café
I wonder what you did today.”
“Dear one at home,
I just flew from Rome.
Now I write this from the plan
Wish you were here,
Here in London
Where the rain the pouring down."
I am walking down streets with thoughts of tomorrow.
Beyond all questions it was my decision to come here: No one forced me, no one pointed a gun at my temple, no one bulldozed me to get on the plane, no one deprived me of my passport when my feet touched the English ground.
It was me personally that took the decision to leave Italy. To reset everything. To distance from friends, family, hobbies and not to look back…at least not for a while.
I decided to plant roots; So in the hours of weakness, when a voice within screams “I want to go home”, I know that I will have found something to lose here too…In Manchester – the place I now call home.
Dear friend please don’t hate me, ‘cause I won’t come back.
Maybe I won’t stay here either. Actually, I don’t think I belong to somewhere. But I am happy.
One day you asked me what happiness to me is.
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know it.
I knew the serenity, the one my mum gave me every day, the warmth of my home, your smiles and our songs. Now I know it and I can tell you that…happiness is fullness.
Happiness is the sensation you feel when you wake up in the morning and nothing oppress you. When you aren’t slave neither of the time nor of the weather, when you aren’t slave of your body and you can get out of the bed and feel light.
Happiness is when you feel cool after a shower or after have put on a brand new dress and you feel inside…you know that not even a side glance, a sarcastic comment or even a bullet could let you down.
Obviously, you know you aren’t indestructible, but you feel like you are. And this strength inside of you is more powerful than the awareness of have a loaded gun in the hands.
Happiness is a gig, is the sound of a drum – the rhythm to your heart, the guitar that control your legs, the bass which drive your hands and a voice that paves the road for the timeless..
Happiness is a hug. Hugs are damn perfect..
“And on the zillionth day God created hugs and it was good”
A hug is an expression of love, maternal love, fraternal love, passional love, merciful love, friendly love, romantic love, empty love…
Happiness is chocolate; it gives perfume to the life.
Happiness is about memories. Someone said that when you wait or reminisce you are neither sad nor happy. You appear sad, but only because you are distant.
I am neither sad nor distant. I’m here, calm. I just add some happiness to my present by turning to my past.
Happiness is a new book. A brand new book.
A book that has never been open, that has never been browsed, or read, or reviewed. It’s knowing that you own that book, it belongs to you. Someone has written it for you.
And all the thoughts inside are just waiting for you to stock them in your mind and to treasure them.
It’s the smell of that book and losing yourself in the meanders of the fantasy and closing the door on the world, because now you have something better.
Happiness is tightening among the limbs your guitar, that guitar which went through everything with you.. The one you carry everywhere, that guitar without a fixed pick. The one you can barely play, but gives you an invaluable power source. That instrument that enable you to create, from nothing, a vibration which crosses you like nothing has ever done and nothing will ever do. And you feel pity, and ask yourself how many people have never felt the sensation from this modest item made of wood.
Happiness is a mum, it’s knowing she is always there. That she loves you unconditionally. That she has seen the worst of you. That she held you in her arms for months and if you wouldn’t be so proud…if you just stop to pretending to be an adult she would hold you again and again and again.
Happiness is knowing that you have a future. It’s seeing your life mess up, your thoughts travelling and never returning because they can’t find their way home- they don’t recognize you anymore.You don’t recognize yourself anymore. But you know everything is going to be alright and you just have to study and stay out of trouble.
Happiness is a camera, it’s trying to catch a butterfly and photograph a fairy. It’s trying to catch a busy man and photograph a hurt soul hiding everythingwith pointlessness.
Happinessis giving happiness, it is about absorbing the thin layer of sadness whosesurround you.
Happinessis making a child stop cry.
Happinessis sharing.
Happinessis walking every day in a rainbow of souls and feeling that you have a hand in it. Knowing you have a colour.
Happinessexist. Have you heard about it?
Emanuela E.
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Originariamente inviata da Temperance
