EARTH
This place with its bucolic tranquility gives me breath, I still gives me sicurezza.Il pastor who file their sticks, the sheep that graze serene, alternating the attempts of the chimney smoke from their mouths hungry for fresh air. Yet something bothers me, shake me, distracts my attention ... shows his face, hear the echo of the words the darkness of the soul as deaf. not grasp the meaning, I can not stop the images.
E 'an atrocious effort, pushes me to shut my ears, close your eyes, faces, tears, screams, laughs that are not associated with, want to come. I do not want to listen, hear. This helps me stalemate, continues to save me from suffering from the evil I do not want to hear.
I lie on the grass, my body adjusting to the turf hardened by the sun, and so I slowly open the safe and peremptory tone of voice, sighs, expressions, wrinkles contracted of my face, the tears ... it releases the energy that compresses the chest pain and prevents me from smiling.
'm lying here, lying, formed in the earth that does not ask, you know, and all the hurt I feel inside slips away ....
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