Friday, June 6, 2014

When childhood is the search of the creativity.

The naturist beach of El Torn, in Hospitalet de l'Infant. 
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In the darkest instants of my life, when the whole day was sunk in a strange night, I tried to get what I could get while there was something to enjoy. The wings of  Earth were cut by a black wind of fear and punishment. All around was the door of the hell and those who were dressed in black and red used to smoke and to repeat boring psalms that had been written by men many centuries before.

The world is full of bad shepherds that don't live and don't let live. They kill the movement to survive, thinking about the worst possibilities of the risk. Their speech explains that the inmobility doesn't die. But It is true because the inmobility is already dead.

I wish a better world for those to come, without any sword hanging over the heads of my sons and my daughters. I want them to be free. I want them to be full of serenity. I want them to absorbe all the deep beauty of the life without fears or threatens. I wish a yellow beach with emerald water, and a sun burning over the clean and deep blue, and the breeze kissing the skin of the people I love. I wish the dream of love comes true. 

I'm sad for so many people that remain encaged into narrow minds. Knowledge makes people free. Nature hides a book inside, and this book reveals the secret of the hapiness to us.

I've been forty five years in this planet. The first ten years were a perfect mixture of hapiness and sadness, of nature and frustration, of wisdom and bad education. I had inside me an enormous yearn of creativity. I needed to create. The school foiled my creative necessities, because teachers worked with the pace of the slowest boys. It was a time of darkness. Books were expensive and bad. Internet didn't exist. I wanted to know the answer of a lot of questions that burned into my heart. The adults thought I was a mad, an strange child, too serious, too sensible, too shy. 

Another day, this story will go on.

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