Trees that wear hats

Hey, welcome! ^^ It is summer! Ship tilted 24 degrees, blossoming in less, simpler words. This maybe just another song of the album, with meaning only in relationship to other plays... But unlike the times before, to embrace the all, be there ever-thankful in harshness. Thanks and honesty, lack of regret, attention of the pain, of the bad. D.I.v.s.f.c.t.

Uite... eu astăzi nu pot scrie cu plăcerea și pasiunea pe care o am de obicei. Tocmai din această cauză, probabil, nu îmi mai cunosc motivele și am o strângere continuă de inimă... o senzație la fel de viscerală ca... poate ca niște amintiri, poate ca niște poze, poate ca un cuvânt pe care tot îl rumeg... Logica și cunoștințele îmi stau în calea cunoașterii momentan... a spontaneității și a sincerității. Obișnuiesc să fiu destul de atent, nu vreau să pierd nimănui intenționat timpul. Dar nu așa se joacă jocul ăsta. Parșiv... cu cât mă axez mai mult pe obiectiv... mă îndepărtez de el. Așa că fac din asta un exercițiu de atentă nepăsare. Ne-ar mai trebui un război. Violența fizică pare atât de naturală... atât de cunoscută... e o problemă ce îți ține mintea ocupată, de dezvoltă... și are soluții clare... pacea. Acum e atât de disimulată... în sarcasm, în uitare, în indiferență... vreau înțelegere. E normal... adică fără o schimbare... stagnăm... e doar altă problemă ce ne forțe

Și când e personal, nu înțelegi. Și când înțelegi, deja o interiorizezi, o faci a ta. Cum vrem noi totul, mereu. Dar nu așa, ci totul totului. Cu cuțitul ală de ți l-ai înfipt în suflet și acum curge toată lumea prin el, fără să lași nimic... nu te gândi prea departe, ia-o literalmente, asta vreau să spun, că vrei tot. Din momentul în care înțelegi, îți asumi tot creditul, discreditezi orice simțământ al altei persoane. De aia există clișee, sunt ușor de înțeles. Iar eu când fac, nu vreau să dau altora. E al meu. Mi-e frică să te văd cu sufletul perforat așa. Vreau să șterg rândurile astea. Simt că sunt copiate de undeva, că ideile sunt vechi, ușoare. Iar că eu nu pot să le dau și tu le ignori de îndată ce le primești. Mă judeci. Sau eu nu sunt încă suficient de matur. Vreau să zic că mi-e frică? Că iar ajung în stadiul inferior celui care mă aflu? De data asta măcar știu că e inferior... deși mă face să mă simt atât de greșit. Da, sunt greșit. Omoară-mă, doar lasă-mă în con

As minds and thoughts settle, there is but one pattern to be seen - amongst countless cheesy lines we forgot to feel, amongst the fears that render us old and arrogant - there is still as much sensation in touch, comfort in eyesight and pain in devotion as there is human in people. Stop being afraid, you 21st century thinker, owning is not knowledge. So spread love, and cash in some cheesy heartbeat.

Short reminder: i thought that anger is a result of fear. It may be otherwise.

If you would ask me why I'd rather read a fiction book rather than one that depicts reality as it was, when both books would convey the same message... I'd be smiling. In a fiction book... characters have to be, ultimately... good or bad. No matter how many layers covering that core, in a fictional world, the ultimate good versus evil struggle will always press on. Then, we look into our lives, into the many stories that depict what happened or what could happen. Books on wars, on crimes and detectives, on inventors and masterminds, on petty thieves, on poverty and wealth. But how could we, us the great family of man, ever be granted the freedom of choosing sides? We are all good and bad. And so, any story that is not fiction... has to put tags on people... and how could I read about men and women that only show half their whole character? How could I learn from a hero who has the same potential as a thief? Am I to hate the thief? Am I that hypocrite? My dear heroes and

It's all a continuous draft of ideas, sinking and appearing all over again. Shifting through stages, through certain patterns of emotion, with no beginning nor end. It's terrifying, how you cannot grasp a beginning, only an end. The present is so... temporary in the vast network of things... hard it is to rise above it and see it full. Minds around begin to deny it all, walls between them and this network grow stronger... so obssessed with walking forward, can we remember not to forget the dear ones besides us?.. Even if the most discussed and debated subjects, the many questions that amalgamate into one giant cheesy novels-inspiring block of words... all this, are not answered. We used to talk in order to solve problems... yet now... talking seems to have become an alternative to problems. The real problems are always avoided. Why so much theory... so much fear of saying or hearing truths? Do we need another war to reveal our true natures? Do we think that in an era o

A tribute to anyone's past... like a claw trying to pull us into being conservative. For the lessons it derives... hopefully we won't forget that their circumstances change. For the welcoming cell of happy memories and comfortable pains that our minds seek in times of trouble. For restricting our eyes to only see biased, to search for what reaffirms our beliefs. For creating all other biases. For teaching us to seek patterns and familiar figures in the world. For allowing our species to make so many mistakes that forged surprising adaptations. For never forgiving. For being so fearsome it manages to make us try and forget it, isolating in the future. For being a ruthless instructor. I bow before thee... I mean you. But you knew both. But change drives evolution. And there cannot be change if we ignore the past.

"Now... even if I wanted to romanticize it, I could not. I cannot remember. Will I know how to see its beauty should it ever strike me again?" -said the distracted mentor to his naive, arrogant and weak student. "But teacher, I was supposed to be promising." "We all are. It was not a compliment, but a really sad fact. Please grasp its meaning... and all its responsibility before my lessons become ghosts, your motivation and ambitions mutate into pursuits of easier paths and fade... before you learn many lessons and you are sure you know everything." "How could I live so far from the edge, when the abiss calls for my presence? I know I cannot root anything without foundation... but does it mean I have to?" "No." "So it means I can pursue desire all my life and nothing would be different?" "Yes." "With no punishment?" "Only if you want to punish yourself." "With everything I

Hello. Not another diary of apology, of learned lessons through mistakes. Let it all come, cruising through,blending within yourself. Accept, just... give away the preconceived. Exercise, practice. Be naive. Knowledge and lessons stand between you and the ability to assimilate information. Be mentally naive. Not a lesson, no certainty in what you believe or say, merely observe the train of thought in its actual form, let it shape itself. Practice on and on. Do not even believe. But aren't you addicted to reading quality stuff? Always expecting the best from the one's that have once impressed you through their passion. And you praise them...and you keep expecting better, always wanting more. And they enjoy being praised... and will strive to suit you rather than themselves... Like there isn't beauty or lessons or attitude to be found in the crappy pages. Please, don't steal one's love for writing. Humans will be humans. Deserve nothing more or less.