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Frosted stars

Modifié le : 2019/08/08

This morn­ing’s cold did not take as much to the throat as yes­ter­day’s more aggres­sive one. The sky, how­ev­er, was still as blue as the north­ern regions know how to do. On urban and dead­ly sur­faces, an overnight frost, bewitched by light.

I walked with a deter­mined step, not remem­ber­ing my dreams. I slept a full night ; the days are so busy. I always have in mind this spread­ing smile of the Bud­dha ; he has been with me for two days. He tells me to straight­en out the spine that I tend to bend. It is sur­pris­ing to see how a sim­ple atti­tude can move moun­tains, tired­ness, regen­er­ate ideas, and hopes.

The same goes for the inner smile. It only takes so lit­tle to be strong and hap­py, to under­stand that what inhab­its us is the bear­er of our blood and our wealth, our trea­sures of life.

I’m not writ­ing this to be opti­mistic. I fight hard, I lis­ten and watch the planes geometrize the sky.

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