Image by Polylooks
Esiste una spiaggia la cui sabbia è fine e bianca, una spiaggia così bella che le stelle marine la scelgono per arenarsi e così lasciarsi seccare dal sole quando esso è alto nel cielo.
E' qui that every day come ashore several glass bottles stoppered with a cloth and sealed with a flow of liquid wax, the ones that bored or desperate shipwrecked sailors adrift at sea filled with yellowed scraps of paper written with shaky difficult to interpret.
Not just notes but shreds of life trapped in the glass to which they are entrusted with memories and hopes, regrets.
Secrets.
words never passed through the air, shouted phrases eyes.
requests for help.
A small red crab along its trajectory bizarre encounters the remains of a flask first damaged by rocks, ora abbandonata in grosse schegge sul bagnasciuga. Il contenuto sta per andar perduto, inumidito dall'acqua salmastra che diluisce l'inchiostro nero dissolvendolo in tante luride lacrime che sporcano la carta e confondono le righe.
Accompagnata dal petulante sciabordio delle onde, la macchia rossa si muove rapida sul fianco fino a che si sofferma brevemente sul foglio quasi a volerne leggere il contenuto prima che il messaggio vada perso per sempre:
Scrivere.
Chi non sa leggere non sa scrivere.
Scrivere è dire, è dare un ordine al sentire, è comunicare il brivido che deriva dal capire.
Writing is thinking, evaluate, compare
E 'minds that they neglect to bother thinking.
Writing is proceeding, is a viable alternative to cry, you have shortness of breath without running.
Writing is like life, sometimes you need to make a point.
It wraps and start again.
Starting with a letter.
Shift, strictly and unquestionably capital.
Now comes the long-range wave other bubbles and sand on the shore, then changed his mind and goes back, taking with it everything in the sea in its withdrawal.
Some messages have the time to read them and catch them by providing a unique opportunity.
When this fails, sorry to have to recognize the fact that he missed an opportunity.
Not bad.
At this moment, somewhere in front of an empty glass bottle, a pen is lifted from the sheet, leaving just one last point impressed.
Return.
