• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 02
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The image brings me the image of a horse's head in the famous work, “Guernica”, by the Spanish painter Pablo Picasso Pictures tell you when words fall short The human soul, there, as here, manifests its cry, its dread, its suffering The human journey is a daily exercise in reflection on nature, even more, on the life that moves over the face of the earth Even more devastating is this objectification of everyday life, the struggle for the survival of beings increasingly trapped, in cities and forests, in the tropics and savannas, in the oceans and in the human heart Where did we get lost My soul, our souls cry out for the place of peace, coziness, kind and caring relationship – loving, free as the birds that cross the sky Where and how to get out of everyday death, imposed and introjected sameness My soul, our souls, where can you find them Ah, within me the tides move and that alone makes me go mad That's why I go to the trees of the wild forest, to hear their birds and the wind in their leaves The language of the crickets, the whisper of the stream, the tromp of herds over the green plain To hear the chords of my soul, like putting sticks on the fire of my heart so that it doesn't fade and fade Ah, I see myself as a wanderer of the stars, trying, with my falling heartbeats, to make the flames of my love flow over everything – I struggle not to grow cold any more than it sometimes does That's why I need nature and I need you, be it a beetle, a crow flying over the blue, a river that flows and quench my thirst, a luminous light that inspires me, a cordial smile, a voice singing in the evening solitude, revealing who I am and how we are, human A woman, always there, to warm my feet and my heart, afflicted and thirsty Listening to the chords of your pulse, your heat, your breathing, oasis of my loneliness