I start up from my dream and I feel a new trace!

Evoked strength! Now and again a hint of a vision fall upon me, and I start up from my dream and I feel a new trace of a fragrance from a northern breeze, the need for change in a rich existence is well represented by the unexpected climate change. I am departing.  Farewell Trieste of Love- Hi North!

Love Love Love

Can't we give ourselves one more chance.
Why can't we give love that one more chance.

move up through the brook

That spirit has forgotten how to be heavenly  for a love! Realistic is a human tested by passions, fulfilled are his desires, and  troubled he is by his grief!  But you’ve forgotten how to cry, laugh, enjoy, see, taste but you never seem bored to be lonely-do you still hear those pleasant bird singing, do you feel the violent flow that runs? You’ve forgotten how to hang in forests! But you’d spent a life in mists of silky paper which were thought to be a home for you and me!  This is not growing up, this is a pre-death decease path!  Raise, raise, and move up through the brook, go on my soul!

They are part of me before them being a past tense of mine.

I did move less than two months ago and I’m now counting the days till I might reasonably hope to settle down again into a new apartment. The promised hospitality  went good I think: I’ve written a lot, I’ve been well treated and I feel solemn gratitude to my friend.

After discharging any fear, stress, worry about the graduation, I’ll proceeded to find a job, my kingdom for being lucky. I’ll be having rapturous moments of happiness once I obtain a mission. I wish it, it to take place as soon as possible: a mission.

From now on, not one day will pass without enthusiasm, a  tacit relation has been established between my mind and me: any possibility is in my heart, in my mind so if I want it, anything could emerge. Let it be I might have to say goodbye to people that could only live..people who has been part of my..present that passing by it becomes my personal past. These people I love could only live in this part and past of mine. But they must also be in my..in me, in my mind so they will never be left alone even in case I might have to depart to somewhere far.  

They are part of me before them being a past tense of mine.

Sitting in my place over my blog, I sense this approach: to draw conclusions and..I raise my head and look into myself. I feel grateful for anything and even if, by the end of a couple of weeks this Trieste of mine could be gone forever I must allow myself a smile and genuine enthusiasm.

Writing stories and notes will be useful to remember it all, because I impress  now forever the widest array of feelings, it allows me to distance myself from feeling blue for saying goodbye, I’ll be happy to encounter new people, come across solutions and combinations I’d never thought of, so different from me. I send this confident belief into the net.  So I wish you well, dear net.

Twist in the tale: another test, another tale, another change, another chance.

Most of my fantasies are to be of use. (quote)

Giulia; Carlo. Estratti.

Fermi in potenza, i sensi possono interpretarsi ugualmente con la felicità o con la sofferenza, con un dolore del corpo o con delle pene; mi chiedo per quale misterioso meccanismo, l’azione, che implica un sentire totale, invada tutto il corpo.

La testa, separata dal corpo, non può più pensare; ma anche con la testa tagliata, il cuore continuerebbe a pulsare, a sentire.

Giulia; Marcello, dirsi addio a Milano.

L'evidenza che il pensiero esista non è garanzia della comunicazione. 

Oh,non sia mai che riesca a parlarti!

E queste parole esistono soltanto nel mio dentro - ma chi hai mai visto il mio dentro!

So che non mi senti, e le parole rimangono qui.. ma se stai leggendo i miei pensieri, considera i silenzi come parte della Giulia che sono; prendi ogni pensiero come conseguenza della timidezza. Se sai leggere i pensieri: scusami. Se non sai leggerli: per chi sto pensando? Rimarrà una traccia dei pensieri quando ci saremo separati?

Al di là delle mie impressioni e dei pensieri, v’è un mondo a cui torno, ed è lo spazio in cui sia tu che io conduciamo la nostra storia- personale, comune. Ed è questo spazio che io chiamo il mio dentro- che non conoscerai mai.

Scritti da sistemare

[...]

-il mio passato è come una vita anteriore. E’ un posto altro-
Filippo la guardò, in pieno volto.
- è un tempo che fu.


(E anche noi siamo già un tempo che fu?)

Sabato.

Può darsi che esistano altri esseri, di altri mondi, dotati di sensi, superiori ai nostri, in termini di potenza, di intensità ? 

I didn't know it.

Hah. I found out I've got some passionate readers from the States.
Hi USA! Thanks for caring about my small life; about this tiny city.

A valuable life.

Mine is a small but valuable life and the cycle of my evolution has not reached even its half. It feels like I’m nearing one’s close, I feel I am running my fair course.  When one disposes himself/herself to moral behavior in an attempt to be Authentic and of social use, his/her energies are developed, active, and are therefore consciously used and one becomes ever more morally disposed.
Moral behavior is intrinsically related to rational act.
It is high time I paid even more attention to the focusing and the use of energy in service, it is recommended to me to polish and perfection my style, my writing, my rational part.

Have a break.

Scusami.
Sono viva. E' che sto scrivendo tantissimo.

Sunday.

Our time is limited. But I think we could be sort of Eternal.

Luck comrade!

After the thesis  period I’ve been struck by an idea. After  few days I’ve been reading more articles, deepen into the theme of discrimination, with genuine interest, thinking to myself whether this is really supposed to be groundwork for my life; what I did must contain some clue to what I am looking for.

It is actually of human rights, Peace building I’ve been thinking. At night I found myself more pensive than usual, I feel like I was rested on a peak, encircled by messages, info, numbers, laws, notes, reminders, deadlines, and burning bushes and dust from crashes and of powder of stars are golden blushes – I suspect they never meant anything in particular to me, but they are radiant warmth. How incredibly high is still the sky even from a peak, and numbers and laws and notes will just keep going on and on forever, perpetuate  the pageant of dust of stars.
So, now I come back to sleep, and the visions of reality are dismissed, I’ll lay down with wonder and hope— Luck comrade! Erudite and clever friend, minded vision of Beauty , you are the only person I could talk to about this sort of thing over and about the uncertain issue with future.

Amused, amused

The music had sprung up by degrees on all sides in me, my exhaustion gently drowned at last the raise of an inner will - it really seems to work up into unutterable delight.

My mind empowered itself again, even stronger than before, and imagination’s being endowed by lucidity with a mystic, sage, sight, and perceptions in their whole, brought before the soul, as though prediction was already sketched on my notes.

Amused, amused by the hint of opportunity,  the scenery of Earth is my eye that strays above the fields, over me, far, far as I was carried away by a whirlwind.

I wish I saw me- so I’m still waving my hand. I hear the music no more, I am the music myself and anytime it hear it bursting out, it’s me laughing myself. Once I find my position on Earth -sometimes standing, sometimes half-sunken beneath the endless rebuff of the foam whose white surf fused in misty smoke goes away towards pearl-rose sky. I might think of a trick of the light, of it being late and me tired, but let myself feel fine and safe.

(My mind gifted by pondering with an inward sight sees a good heart).

For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see

from "Locksley Hall" (1842) 
Lord Tennyson's

"For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, 
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; 
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly dew 
From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue; 

Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle flags were furl'd 
In the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the world. 
There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, 
And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law."

A guaranty

We can never have the guaranty  about the success of our goal, and sometimes we can’t make it more than a speculative ideal, which may or may not be doable. I seldom do no more than relate what I’ve seen or what I feel It’s been.  I tell stories, brief, indescribably touching views of my life. I think my goal, writing, is sort of a duty I feel I have, and the stories I imagine give me a sensible ground for a conviction that my vision of Beauty, Love and Peace are realizable. Peace, seems only an hypothetically idea-ideal that it is doable; just stop discussing about it, blaming each other’s behavior , passing judgments and, merely, put it in our lives, tell it in our words. Being into a state of peace it’s a duty, an exercise, our goal, our success before it being reached, it could be the story of ourselves, of each one: it is our story, it could happen to us anytime we call it, and it is already some people who lift their selves for it to the level of an experience.