Dream and Hope

Music is for my soul a miraculous medicine, a mountain spring, a trill of birds in the woods, a pleasant winding breeze, which makes wonders at that moment of maximum sadness and which, by the superb melodic lines, transposes me, deters me, in a different world, away from real life, being a symbol of total soul balance, becoming a reference system and why not a virtual ying and yang melodic.

What can you do in such moments?…How long do you dream? My great desire would be that all of these things become real one day as soon as possible, though most of the time I doubt.

Years and years have passed, and nothing has happened, is it a mirage like “Morgana Girl” (a mirage)?

Dreams, dreams, dreams…

Recently Easter Holidays, it is true in a rather unpleasant period, because the weather, capricious, with a lot of snow in the second half of March, made the landscape not as great as I would be desired; with blooming trees, grass and flowers…but compensated, if I can express it so, by the warmth transmitted by our Lord’s resurrection.

What I mean by that, something warmer outside, which allowed me to go quietly and with the consciousness of the Lord’s house, listen to the Resurrection service, and take the Holy Light. Light from God, heat from God that I wrapped him in ato crush the whole body, all the soul giving me the hope that I will have patience as my dreams will be fulfilled as I wish.

I do not know what is the custom of Resurrection in other religions, I do not know how to do it, but I know that the holy light in our Orthodox religion is brought to the Easter night by the Holy Tomb of Jerusalem by a parent in our country and distributed every holy place on the night of the beginning, to be given to the people, to the eunuchs, and to mark the resurrection of our Lord.

The reality is that there are moments in which I feel the need for peace, silence, which I seek, try to discover, that finally I can find it in the lovely Lord’s house.

Once upon a time, I sit quietly in a reclining chair, staring at the icons, my mind trembling with the delicate noise of the burning fiery candle, the smell of the ointment, trying to get rid of those secrets hidden from my soul, secrets of secrecy which cannot be shared with anyone other than the Lord, He being the only one who can help me to regain my peace of mind.

With my soul, I come home, listen to good music, browse the pages of a book, which brings me back to my everyday life, surpassing the critical moments of sadness.

As the story of me and another time, good music and literary quality hatred are my other hobbies that I enjoy and I always do well cheer opposite course of photography, photography in general.

It has often been suggested to me to write, my muse arguing in my dream as a charming and delicate divine “being” that directs my steps through words. I do not know if I am endowed with such a talent, but I try to think that all the ideas I have in my head, whether good or bad, can be put on the paper in words and phrases that can be read interpreted by others.

I do it a little rarer, but when I try to get it out, because the reader really can see the reality of my soul, so tired of the ruthless passage of years.

But if you read through the lines, you will actually do more of my inner feelings, trying to find a privileged bearer of words to find decipherment instrument, that inner code that reveals the hidden elements of the feelings they feel.

There is no need for topics or reference systems to report to me, as they can be original, so I can put into motion the mechanism of creation, a mechanism that most often becomes a mechanismto create illusions, meant to establish as continuity between my inner world and the real external world.

Thus, the reader can be considered an arbiter between the two worlds, one of the other changing faces, being the only and the only critic between the two fronts, virtual and real.

But most tolerate and accept real inspiration.But I, generally have a lot of ideas, otherwise I could not create or see a certain composition, a composition that helps me a lot in photographic art and why not in the art of writing. Strange, is not it?

But I think photographic art (and why not say a little talent) guided my steps through the sinuous maze of art.

I once said that it would be a great pleasure to write a novel, being aware that it will not be easy, and it will also require a pre-solid documentation to create real cadres and images with virtual, imaginative characters, but that has a close connection with the life we ​​live in.

Obviously, it depends very much on what you want to write, what kind of literature to address, and the time period during which the action will take place, the period that may be past, present and why not future.

For now, it’s like a musical note on a portable being led in this adventure by His Majesty, the Sol Key….

Dreams, dreams, more…What can be more beautiful than dreaming…

April, 14th