clear water, clear wind, clear dust

Just need to sit outside, country on one side, city behind me, and a house on my left. Want the airplanes far away, and the highways forget, want a little snow flake, and a cry upstairs. Want to know it is not forever, but even then live the sound of eternity. Because some things can remain warm even through the darkest and the coldest winter. The softness of your baby skin, a hard floor against my chest, lights, tree lights, christmas lights. Real christmas lights. And a pool over there, a pool that is always listening to the twilight; that holds the skie's tears, and the emptiness of its face, when it's warm weather. The clear forgiveness of the attitudes, clear as water, as wind, as dust.
And in here, having with me the immortal knowledge that you are forever. It makes me want to go back, because there's someone wanting me. Myself.

"Living here day by day, you think it's the center of the world. You believe nothing will ever change. Then you leave: a year, two years. When you come back, everything's changed. The thread's broken. What you came to find isn't there. What was yours is gone. You have to go away for a long time... many years... before you can come back and find your people. The land where you were born. But now, no. It's not possible. Right now you're blinder than I am."


Nuovo Cinema Paradiso, Giuseppe Tornatore