MISSING YOU

How can two people be part of the same world if there is someone always on the missing side? Is it the illusion our soul is trying to crave for romance? To miss somebody leaves one of those empty feelings inside of us we can only understand if the other part is with us again, maybe promising she’ll remember to be yours. Sometimes I wonder if the feeling of missing somebody is nothing but the fear of a sort of imperfection of not being enough. Actually we want to leave just to avoid the steady crossing mind – but we cant!

Is it about the old times, the new times or simply tears? I don’t like to say do not cry since not every tear seems to be a scourge.

But what if we begin to understand that at some point we aren’t able to look back. Can time heal everything or must we accept that some pain is that profound it may embrace us forever? Is this the fortress of our life we must deal with or should we try to escape once again in search for the expected better one, who maybe never will come along? Possibly we sometimes forget how it feels to be alive and try to make it up for missing you. Somehow missing means nothing but the chosen one is not only a star, but the damn whole sky to ourselves – the one who might be able to change a life by making the one place of being together the place one would rather be.

I would like to quote not one of the famous authors the literal world has seen but one of my most heartily friends by saying that missing is the wish of wanting to put the others dreams in the ones eyes. But what if the other looked into my eyes, saw my heart shatter but hers didn’t? Dreams are illusions but pain is having presence in mind. Somehow we must fight bitterly to protect the roots of our leaves.

Cheers

Lorax

LOST WORDS

Do we lose some words over a certain period of time? All those simple phrases like humanity’s most famous one I love you and are we actually able to find them again by letting a bolt of bravery release them from the deepest of our hearts? Isn’t it about words coming along with us even the longest road in life expressing that, what we want and what we should – and our souls in a steady conflict with our rationality because of the one person we literally are not? Words we lived and maybe will, waiting for all those gorgeous days.

In the end lost is lost or should we get an exalted understanding of losing things, paraphrasing it with hidden? The ludicrous character of losing our words is that we actually lose ourselves. One metaphoric lost star, still in that ridiculous belief being one of a kind between a million but never even able to shine brighter then the rest.

And time runs.

So what should we search for among this mega-lie of free men who are nothing but slaves of their own profit? Love? Dreams? Luck? Maybe we shouldn’t forget that losing a part of us means a piece of ourselves is gone and instead of searching ideals of romantic imagination we might be better off getting our fucked up soul back together by facing our struggles. So why not starting to care about things again instead of standing the curios but somehow fashionable idea of giving a shit? What we mustn’t forget is that you don’t love someone for their looks, or their cloths or for their fancy cars, but because they sing a song only you can hear – so our old friend Oscar.

What he doesn’t say is who sings this song. Maybe someone, maybe ourselves or maybe the certain sunrise giving us every new day the chance to find out exactly that: Who are we? So why not loving a bit more in hope for better times - they won't be perfect, but pure.

Cheers

Lorax

THE NIGHT OF DESIRES

Roundabout 1700 years ago Saint Lorenzo was martyred to death by the reigning roman emperor and till today the tears he cried to save the poor are seen as fiery shooting stars on the sky in the middle of august, so the Italian fairytale. Nevertheless people around the world and especially in Italy still see these special nights round the 10^th of august as great opportunity to make a wish with every single shooting star they luckily catch the sight of. My mum taught me this very special tradition and until today, it doesn’t matter where I am located I take the time and wait for the star rain. I never got the particularity of this night, as some might see it as every other one, but although it fills myself with a feeling of sentimentality. You may ask how can we even demand for a wish in a world we might own everything we could imagine, but in this special case it isn’t about materiality. It is about the emotion we get by confronting ourselves with the question of what we really want and maybe need. A certain kind of keeping things elementary.

The most special attribute of this night are the reactions of my friends I get back by remembering them to watch the sky. It is exactly therefore we make those wishes – to get some kind words and thoughts back to oneself, like the flying stars finding their route back home. We might say we have everything we desire, but I don’t like restricting the thought of a unique night to the basic needs. Sometimes I get the impression that we forget among all our sorrows on highest level, what it means to appreciate and be appreciated – I don’t see the necessity of suffering, because there isn’t any.

Tonight I would like to thank all those inspiring girls and boys around me, who maybe never get to know that they are and will be my very personal muses making every single of my nights to a memorable one. All those wishes flying down to earth tonight are yours – just catch them and maybe make a wish for me as well.

Thank You

Lorax