When I wrote my first alphabet I was amazed at all the power that a single crayon had.
When I wrote my first maths problem and I met all those numbers for the first time I realized that they only made sense inside my head and I wondered why did I have to think of a two if I raised my index finger and my thumb.
When I wrote my first poem something was born inside myself. It was a storm because it was sharp and unclear. It was an ocean because it was deep and dark. I guess it was just myself after all, with all the darkness and sharpness I have ever dared to wield.
When I wrote my first love letter I discovered that time was fleeting and that people hurt. I thought I would find a way to stop time and I thought I would figure all this suffering out. When I wrote my first love letter I learned to say goodbye, because my first love letter was also my last one.
Tu blog me resulta familiar. Bueno, no tu blog, sino tu forma de escribir, de expresarte. Muchas de las cosas que dices me parece que podría escribirlas yo misma y tendría todo el sentido del mundo. Adoro la lectura y Barcelona y el café y el otoño y curso segundo de bachillerato y me gusta la fotografía y escribir y qué locura.
ResponderEliminarEspero que esto no suene muy a gilipollez. Feliz fin de semana, por cierto.
No suena a gilipollez para nada. Es muy curioso. :)
Eliminar¿Es tuyo? Cada vez que lo visito me gusta más tu blog, y las preciosidades que encuentro. ¡Un abrazo!
ResponderEliminarSí, es mío. Gracias. c:
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