I believe in angels ...... a ... ancient city, perhaps one of the oldest in our country .... built in stone, Rome still rule, which kindled like fire at sunset, dominated by the Apennines that gently caress .... The old Rocca seems to search passers-by. He has a circular window on the front, a white rosette with strange gray streaks, and rose above this, on a shelf of stone, there is an angel. It is a beautiful angel, of those who leave charmed, angel is a curious and rather shabby, stone gray and dirty, without wings and with outstretched hands, seems to accept, collect something that is falling. Actually it does not seem an angel, and many wonder what it is. But smiles in a certain way .... it is definitely an angel. The angels, in fact, not recognized by the wings nor the capacity nor the means nor by words, either by gold or dall'alone of mystery, even from light, especially now that the lights are so many .... .. The angels are recognized by just smile .. smell good.
I believe in angels.
Angels playing, dancing, sad, angry, happy, rascals, funny, smiling angels ....
angels who look, speak, come, go, disappear, walk beside you in parallel streets ...
sometimes you meet them, then lose them e. .. then return to your conscience to disappear again ......,
staring at you, smile, cry ... angels .... ethereal creatures waiting to be reached ...
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