• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 07
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Traveling through images is always an adventure,
an invitation to reflection, a probe into one's own heart.
Do I see everyday scenes from an unknown place
- human signs, plants, signs, the enigmatic graffiti
- an insect, a monster, an alien being? Is there poetry
in this corner where a soul whispers something,
a challenge to my mind, my emotions,
an invitation to unravel the poetry that
screams from this soul from somewhere
in the vast human memorial?
On the other side of the grid the trees, silent, without wind.
I walk in this vacant space, perhaps forgotten
by its owner, but captured by someone else and inscribed,
now, in mine, in our memory.
They are human signs, of human passage.
There, maybe there was love between a man and a womam,
maybe a child was born who played in this now lonely backyard - moans, silences, conflicts, the fear of the
unknown stamped on the graffiti.
I make this journey where
I also find myself, under the arcade of the years
that pass and disappear - but they leave their marks,
their mysteries, their sobs, encounters and songs,
poems scratched on leaves that the wind took away. ever.
I pass by, respectfully because
I know that when
I go to meet someone else,
I also find a little more of myself.