11:29 AM - At the threshold

Finally, I find something to put under the rug. A personal fear that opens the door. A piece of junk that gives cord to my heart, breaking the tears and the bars that surround this stretching lung. I hardly breath, but this thing will survive anyway. Longing for those days, the path lies waiting infront of my eyes, regarding for its looks in the mirror, shaping the way it stands in the doorway of the other side. It bends forward, gazing at me, asking me how I went this far without paying any attention. The heart's size is exactly as big as anyone knows: A fruit that decompose lying in the woods. As time goes by, the softer it gets, loosing its form, degrading until it transforms into "humus" for the next generation.Carving the soil brings me memories of forgotten sounds and fading tastes. Flavors of old, moments of past lives that come alive once more only through the glass.The birth is the hardest part of any arrival, but when the head passes through, the rest is much easier. First the shoulders, then the torax, the hips and finally the feet.

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