Some days have felt nameless, like a clock without its hands, the nights of one month blend into the days of another. In which void can I find my memories. To what senses can I owe my present.
yet it seems like the things felt, that are the ones which sink the deepest. Disoriented, unable to determine the point of their origin. Before any awareness is allowed to settle it, it feels like air has ran out. A threshold where the full spectrum of the inexpressible felt, pulls on you simultaneously, pulling you to the surface. A gasp, a blinding vertigo bursting white flash, disorienting any sense of balance. and with a big sigh confrinted with a scene so bright its take the eyes days to adjust.
Surrounded by light. Im reminded that its the people that have somehow found their way in front of us who are the ones that bring presence to our feelings. Who are the symbolic container to these missing memories.
to this collective glow, shining so softly upton the hills of Zoagli, Fueld by silly conversations, sometimes or most of the time bluring between the realms of absursdity and the pure. Laughts that renders the belly sore and sends the cheeks into a light cramp. Dinners made and shared that would make any grandma proud. naps pressed on by the weight of the summer heat, only to be woken by the clear salty water that rinses us anew.
even the cicadas click and clap into the evening, probably in acknowledgment to this kind of joy. The fireflies flash along to our excitement, a wink from the shadows as if they are in on something we dont yet know...