via: ffffound!

“If we wish to know the truth concerning anything, we’ll find it in the nature of that thing.” — Frank Lloyd Wright

via: ffffound!

source: bram*
via: ffffound!

Leaving that door understood to have lost my soul, and along with it myself. By now it was late for that little glimmer of conscience remained in some way could shout its outrage and also my ability to try pain seemed gone. He felt the bones scricchiolare while I muovevo along the road. It was amazing how little enough because the pain is tramutasse in instinct and the whole aggrappasse instinct is the only thing that could soothe the wounds, pushing blindly, lacerando, mordendo… .. I had lost consciousness of time, that night that seemed never ending more….

From great want to be like you,

an old oak, secure, stable, strong.

From great want to be like you,

an open mind, deep, alive.

From great want to be like you,

committed, warrior, provocative.

From great want to be like you.

And it is much that you sent me

when I allenavi, when I insegnavi,

when I said the other still write together ..

In the darkness I find …
The darkness does not fear … is part of me …
in the dark you try …
you find in the dark …
… here inside me …
without questions ..
without answers …
only you
I only …

It looked those eyes that had appeared a day reassuring
now there read that the resentment and fatigue.
“We betray” he said-”You will see that you will use and when not serve more you butterà in the wastepaper basket”
“Maybe it will do so … is possible … maybe I am not arguing that the trash …”
“It will do so … and you know well ..”
The eyes filled with tears that did not want to know … get off his face resigned …
“When this happens accept …”.
The years passed on those words every day and was afraid that the prediction is avverasse. The prediction that prediction was not, but perhaps fear, consciousness ruthless dell’eterno changing things. The years passed and his hand was always there …. the years passed and increasingly became convinced that the hand would have always been there … until the end of his days .. that was his hand … that the hand belonged as the heart, like blood … who was running her …. not the left …. was only a fear … fear not knew where it was felt that at times palpable and thick and warm ….. that fear that gave the shock of adrenaline that was felt alive …. that was for a moment losing their sense of reality .. . bastarda that, fucking fear he had chosen as a friend … as a companion to remember .. … perhaps that what had had an immense value .. not to forget this ever …

source: typophile