Let my freedom be the only infinite thing.

Can you hear the wind? It approaches calmly and silently. My eyelids are starting to open; my numb and dry glances hit against the damp and wet walls… I lift my head, unaware of anything. Every mirror I show my face breaks, I stand up amongst these fragments. Pain is very close; pain is very far. I learn to walk, dreaming of running. To run, dreaming of flying… There are some lost things that I need to find, that need to find myself… Then the wind comes; I’m afraid of having found it, being found… I want to touch it, my hands reach out with all my courage, I open my arms. Hope is unaware of existing innocently. Then I hear an angry rumble; before I even understand what’s going on, they break my hands, cut my arms off. I’m feeling the sadness of not being able to fly anymore in the very depths of my heart and soul. My body is getting heavier and heavier. The earth is cold and dry. We are waiting for the rain together, imagining that our desires are close. A drop falls on my body, it’s a messenger of the lost cities. I want to melt, be merged with earth, air, and water. I want to flow into the time. Smile like angels… I want my freedom to be the only infinite thing. I want to compose every note, draw every painting, say every word all over again. I want to breathe from now on. Can you give me my freedom?

I’m writing these sentences as a veiled girl who sacrificed the best years of her life for her family by being estranged from herself. Let our passions never go out. There definitely is freedom.

(Image: Simonetta Martini)

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