2012-08-17, 02:19 PM
[Spoiler= The clock stopped at 7 o'clock]
There's a beatiful clock hanging in one of my walls of my room and it doesn't work anymore.
Its hands stopped since always, shows the exact same time: 7 o'clock... Almost all the time, the clock is just a useless souvenir on my empty wall.
Nonetheless, there's two moments during the day, two shooting instants in which that old clocks seems to rise from the ashes like a phoenix.
When all the other clocks in the city, with their crazy gaits marks the 7 o'clock and all of the sudden all the coo-coo's and gongs start to ring all over the city, my old clock in my room seems to get life again.
Two times per day, one in the day and one in the day, that old clock feels in complete harmony with the rest of the universe.
If someone looked at that clock in those very moments, they would say it works perfectly...
But past that instant, when all the other clocks have shut and all the hands start their monotone paths, my old clock loses its way and stick loyal to that single time.
And I love that clock, and whenever I talk about it, I love it more, because each time I feel more alike to it - I'm stuck in the time too, I feel inmobile and attached, somehow I'm a useless decoration on a empty wall.
But I have some shooting moments too, in which, mysteriously, my time comes.
During those times, I feel alive. Everything is clear and the worlds transforms into something wonderful.
I can create, dream, fly, say and feel more things in those moments than any other. This harmonicals conjuctions just appears over and over again, as an inexorable secuence.
The first time I felt it, I tried to stick in that instant believe I could make it last forever. But it wasn't that way. As my loyal clock, I lost the time of others too.
Past these times, the other clocks that nest in other people, continue their work and I come back to my static death routine, my job, my coffe talks and my bored way I use to call life.
But I know life is another thing... I know that life, life truly is the sum of all those moments, although short, they allow us to feel in sintony with the rest of the universe.
Almost all the world, poor of them, think they live.
There are only moments of plenitude and those who don't know and insist on making them last forever, will remain condemned to a gray world, and a tedious wandering of ordinariness.
This is why I love you, old clock, because you and me... are the same thing.
There's a beatiful clock hanging in one of my walls of my room and it doesn't work anymore.
Its hands stopped since always, shows the exact same time: 7 o'clock... Almost all the time, the clock is just a useless souvenir on my empty wall.
Nonetheless, there's two moments during the day, two shooting instants in which that old clocks seems to rise from the ashes like a phoenix.
When all the other clocks in the city, with their crazy gaits marks the 7 o'clock and all of the sudden all the coo-coo's and gongs start to ring all over the city, my old clock in my room seems to get life again.
Two times per day, one in the day and one in the day, that old clock feels in complete harmony with the rest of the universe.
If someone looked at that clock in those very moments, they would say it works perfectly...
But past that instant, when all the other clocks have shut and all the hands start their monotone paths, my old clock loses its way and stick loyal to that single time.
And I love that clock, and whenever I talk about it, I love it more, because each time I feel more alike to it - I'm stuck in the time too, I feel inmobile and attached, somehow I'm a useless decoration on a empty wall.
But I have some shooting moments too, in which, mysteriously, my time comes.
During those times, I feel alive. Everything is clear and the worlds transforms into something wonderful.
I can create, dream, fly, say and feel more things in those moments than any other. This harmonicals conjuctions just appears over and over again, as an inexorable secuence.
The first time I felt it, I tried to stick in that instant believe I could make it last forever. But it wasn't that way. As my loyal clock, I lost the time of others too.
Past these times, the other clocks that nest in other people, continue their work and I come back to my static death routine, my job, my coffe talks and my bored way I use to call life.
But I know life is another thing... I know that life, life truly is the sum of all those moments, although short, they allow us to feel in sintony with the rest of the universe.
Almost all the world, poor of them, think they live.
There are only moments of plenitude and those who don't know and insist on making them last forever, will remain condemned to a gray world, and a tedious wandering of ordinariness.
This is why I love you, old clock, because you and me... are the same thing.