« I walk and listen— really listen to the lyrics and like way too many other instance, they are matching and harmonious to the moment. The day is beautiful with the sky adorned of fluffy, white clouds. The morning sun rays have been vanished and in their place they give me the gift of peacefulness and coolness of day break. The breeze caresses my mosquito-bitten skin, and in this park bench, it is calm. It is the type of tranquility that can only be achieved Sunday mornings when most people sleep and the rest—the early wakers—hide away from the cloudy skies.
♪♫♬♪ Quiero vivir, quiero gritar,
quiero sentir el universo sobre mí
Quiero correr en libertad,
quiero encontrar mi sitio
Una broma del destino,
una melodía acelerada en una canción que nunca acaba
Ya he tenido suficiente,
necesito alguien que comprenda
que estoy sola en medio de un montón de gente
Qué puedo hacer
Quiero vivir, quiero gritar,
quiero sentir el universo sobre mí
Quiero correr en libertad,
quiero llorar de felicidad
Quiero vivir, quiero sentir el universo sobre mí
Como un naufrago en el mar, quiero encontrar mi sitio
Sólo encontrar mi sitio ♪♫♬♪
The tall giants surround me with exquisitely twisted branches and discolored leaves. I look at their heights, and get lost in their maze of beauty. I do want to feel the universe above me, and looking at these trees, I almost do. It isn’t the trees, or the place, or the time. It is a complexity of everything and the simplicity of nothing. I fall in love with them because more than intricate sculptures and awe-inspiring architecture, they inspire the feeling of resilience and antiquity. After the night showers, their bark looks like silken robes that cling—wrinkly—over long, straight bodies. Amongst them, close to the circular, concrete fountain, stands a young tree—trying to fit amongst the others towering over it. Is it the wind? The sound of the fountain? The occasional singing of the morning birds up in the canopy? I am just thankful for having received a brochure with a blank side, and finding a pen in my bag, and France, and Sunday rain. 13.9.2015. »
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