Night Translucent and Vibrating
Looking out the window, listening to the sounds and noises of the city, dreaming, seeing, feeling, missing are the things I like to do. Especially if it’s on a late-summer night when summer’s kissing goodbye and autumn knocks on the door. And busy, busy is the winter cold and snowy, wishing to cover all that lived and hoped with a mantle of white, impenetrable blanket, suffocating life.
September is a month of ambiguity and translucency – summer still lingers yet autumn whispers in the wind. On a warm September afternoon, I wrote this poem reflecting on the past, the present and the future, the impalpable transition from childhood and innocence to adulthood. And, as it always happens, the more I ask, the more questions I have.
Most of us live in big cities full of lights, people, sounds, colors and dreams, and most of the time this would make us feel comfortable and secure, as if we belong to something bigger and very important. However, sometimes the bright lights look cold as ice, the crowds seem astonishingly disinterested in one’s ups and downs, and the vivid dreams turn into terrible nightmares. This is when we realize that the world could be an incredibly lonely place where one’s reality is twisting and turning.