Which project will you present?
There is a constant changing line that not always exists.
It is moved day by day.
The more you’re closer, the more it becomes invisible.
My ears feel
The desperate and romantic tune of young soldiers
And behind them the youngest
With fires, wine and songs
Smelling steps of sorrow
Obey as soldiers
Not so much I’d say.
Become stronger to not succumb
in the hellish universe of the adults.
It seemed a peculiar shrill idea
The picklock that thins the collective amnesia.
This difference seemed to be lived by me.
I have not written all I would have
Of the imaginary adventure,
The reasons why I became,
Knows the world enough to dive head first in it,
Reaching another tale, the daily resistance to life
Which breathlessly tries to survive under the bush of illegality,
To a continuous slope into the prostitution of mind
To bring it to the enlightening passages of freedom.
So they departure