What do they know…

…about being homesick?

…about the sighs and tears bursting out in the middle of a Sunday, after a peaceful day?

…about feeling useless and shallow?

…about wanting to say so many things and eventually verbalizing so few?

…about all the mad thoughts that pass through your mind while driving on the highway at midnight?

…about the tears on the face while listening to that song that brings out so many memories?

…about the signs that you’re waiting for and never appear?

…about the cigars smoked in front of Departures, hopelessly trying to hide the tears and the sadness?

…about all that you want to do and don’t find internal resources any more?

…about needing to hold hands?

…about the voracious need to talk and, moreover, communicate, and be listened to?

…about the dreams that burn inside you and you are so afraid to let them out once and for all?

…about the anxiety?

…about looking at the stars and hoping yours is still shining?

…about longing for a hug at night?

…about the real and fragile you?


Most probably very few things and perhaps it’s better like that. Or not. Or maybe it’s a question of time and way of delivering the information and expressing yourself. It may be the context, as well. And they also need to be open to perceive and receive all this information and they may never be. What to do, then, when in need for a real someone to be there, to listen and to understand? Change your words, your way of saying, your intentions? Forgetting, smiling, crying, looking at the sun and starting all over?



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