I dream of being a sailor without a boat leaving for a strange country, leaving everything that must always be left behind: the smile under the sheets, books on a shelf, unfinished stories in drawers, the swallowed cries, laughter, itineraries, and streets where I will never write, memories that will continue their rare life in memory. I imagine the apparitions of a face in front of the ocean. New skin for the future. I greet the rain that goes to the city as if to wash away the sins of the world. I dream within my dream, on roads that lead nowhere. Nowhere translates into search, the misunderstood that tingles in the head, all those things, the objects that linger and slowly spoil under the gaze, the ruins of our victories. I dream of leaving with bitter consolation, what is it that has not held me, what I have not been able to see, that which deceives me and drags me along? What exactly am I looking for when I leave and lose myself in the unknown? Something dwells in my dream. What does my presence in the middle of nowhere matter, for them it will never be anywhere, but a place, this attachment to a land where the future draws a meaning. Leaving carries the suspicion of error, close to the suffering of those who do not manage to cross the door. Parting is the moment in which one leaves the people attached to the heart, that secret pain and pleasure, that grace of strength that gives the departure. Pain and pleasure of staying with the thirst of all the routes at the same time. A smile may turn into faith, a caress into a provisional compass, until disembarking soaked in another dream, with dripping energy, dream without searching shelter, dream, all whole and empty, dream… dream.
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When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
