A writing with no direction
I paint
But nothing special I want to draw
I could rhyme but why the effort?

Should I start rhyming?
That is not the matter
I don’t know what is the object of my art
It’s nothing but my ape thoughts

Thoughts, desires, fears, urges, sorrows…
I want to be more present
Like my middle days in Pellumbas
I want to feel everything and everyone
Lightly, deeply. Yes, deeply

Bears, I don’t know how to defend myself
Here in the mountains, it’s full of them
I’ll go to the nature anyway

I feel coming back
My awareness of the one
The aliveness of tuto

Oh, how peaceful is
To write without reservations
Without intention
Besides pure expression

I feel the beams of the red orange star
Or I used to
Replaced now by white flying things
Update: now the fotons are back again
Without constraints, white walls

The white of these
is such a pure color
Sometimes tangled with blackness
Others just pure

The same…
Oh my god. I gigantic bee around me
She is gone, it seems

Now, the blue sky is indeed something
Pure.
What is to be pure?

Potato or tomato puree
I very much like these

Now everything must come to an end
As you, me, everyone that we love
The trees, the animals, the bee..

And the same
It goes to