I travelled through my memories again. With my hands, my aromas, my senses. I listened back to all my stories and looked again at every picture I had imprinted on my retinas. I felt again the tickle of those twigs that danced in the wind, in a summer that remains alive in my memory.
I reopened my notebooks, went through old maps and retraced every step I had drawn along the way. I talked to my inner child again and even flew again on the butterfly wings of my first love.
I danced again with innocence, to feel the scent of the paper of that book that left its mark on me. I re-read the sentence that a woman threw into the Universe, from which I learned that ‘impossible’ is only the prelude to ‘incredible’.
I unpacked a suitcase full of emotions to return home, to dance on tiptoe among the stars and tell the world who I am.
I have returned to that Mediterranean breeze that makes me float, to the murmur of the after-meal conversations, to the taste of oranges and honey and to that lighthouse that illuminates every moment of darkness.
I am back, because the best thing about memories is to create them. Because the best thing about life is living it.
And because the best thing about the past is that it makes us who we are today.
I have returned collecting moments that make me feel alive.
I travelled through my memories again. With my hands, my aromas, my senses. I listened back to all my stories and looked again at every picture I had imprinted on my retinas. I felt again the tickle of those twigs that danced in the wind, in a summer that remains alive in my memory.
I reopened my notebooks, went through old maps and retraced every step I had drawn along the way. I talked to my inner child again and even flew again on the butterfly wings of my first love.
I danced again with innocence, to feel the scent of the paper of that book that left its mark on me. I re-read the sentence that a woman threw into the Universe, from which I learned that ‘impossible’ is only the prelude to ‘incredible’.
I unpacked a suitcase full of emotions to return home, to dance on tiptoe among the stars and tell the world who I am.
I have returned to that Mediterranean breeze that makes me float, to the murmur of the after-meal conversations, to the taste of oranges and honey and to that lighthouse that illuminates every moment of darkness.
I am back, because the best thing about memories is to create them. Because the best thing about life is living it.
And because the best thing about the past is that it makes us who we are today.
I have returned collecting moments that make me feel alive.
