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Let the words flow, he said…

Little did he know that my words didn’t know how to flow, they’d either swim fast, like professional high speed swimmers, now they’re here, the next moment out in the blue, or they would stumble one upon another, until they would form up a confusing  shape, much like an anthill, you could close your eyes and feel the tunnels, the corridors, the maze one’s thoughts would die trying to find a way out from… Press ‘pause’! Breathe!!

This Tuesday is very different. Sunny and coquette, like a little French poodle taken out for its Sunday walk, elegant and hilarious in the same time, like a sweet cookie tasting salty every now and then… Mesmerizing, tiring… Smelling like Monday sometimes. (look, the words said, we’re here, flowing, see us, use us, no, no, don’t go away, don’t change the idea, we still want to talk about this Tuesday… or is it the poodle?)

This Tuesday is calm, like a young woman doing her manicure. Lots of pedantry. Unnecessary predictability. And silence. Unexpected, blessing silence. Smelling like oranges and spring flowers.

The day ends into a peaceful evening, with red wine and savage music. No, the music is not savage, it’s the wine! Red and alive, like a stubborn blood, flooding the corridors of the anthills, drowning the  thoughts and resurrecting old images on the retinas, when I had long hair and could let the words flow…

Happy Women’s Day!


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