Nightmares and passions.
Lonely nights of Sand and Fog, trying to scream in a hollow voice.
wolves howling in pure desert.
It is only by choice, it is only because even when you're with yourself, with your soul, there is already too much noise, and the desert silence and admiration, fear, and reflection, but who knows .. love is never really alone, even with himself.
It is only out of necessity, need, but also in opposition to too much love, unhappiness, or simply because they are capable of standing alone with oneself without fear of confrontation with spirit.
The desert is temptation, stone becomes food, risk and hidden life. E 'poetry, pink unexpected storm of knowledge, an oasis of knowledge, illusion of truth. The dunes are transformed with the wind but the desert remains the same ...
Sit down, this is solitude, a non-place, where it grows hemisphere of the mind awareness, remedy crazy ... - perhaps madness.
We are unhappy because I can not stay alone in a room, in silence, in the beautiful romance of the transposition of mind.
And then sit down, sit on a sand dune. You do not see anything, hear anything .. but something shining in the silence ...
Nobody is afraid of dying in the desert. It is not a heroic thing. It is the desert. The desert man as a consuming fire consumes a tree.
on the desert sand as the waters of the oceans can not stay, put down roots, live, live permanently. In the desert, as we must constantly move in the ocean, and so let the wind, the true master of this immensity, erase every trace of our passage, makes the spread of new of water or sand, virgin and inviolate.
You really only then ..? Maybe you ... at crucial moments, in moments of intense life, in truth extreme, with its joys and sorrows as well.
In everything really is just from the first transition to moan, but a cobalt blue sky, above the clouds in rainy day ... .. we will meet again
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