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2002-07-07 13:46:01 ET
Today I went to a regional museum because in the auditorium a quartet was going to play chamber music. I stayed there, I listened, and again I got impressed of the passionate music.
Some interesting fact I noticed. While I was walking in the street suddenly some feather fell down to me. I didn’t know where it came from, I didn’t even look up to see if a bird passed by, how strange it was if like it had fell down slowly just so I could catch with my left hand. It was so pure white when I took it. I had it in my hands some time because I liked the way how it felt. Then, a while after I noticed how it got so dark gray. My hands weren’t so filthy, I swear I washed my hands before going out. I started to think of how this was a metaphor of some things in my life. Sometimes the more I try to care for something I like the more I mistreat it, not on purpose. That, I think, was my own psychological reflection of why I was a shy kid, and still shy. When I do give a fuck about people I really don’t give a shit, but when I’m interest in something I’m SO afraid of ruin it, so I just watch and listen. |
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