Because maybe this is the image that best describes your life.
A long walk along the beach. Waves come and go, stirring the pebbles on the shore. Sometimes you caress my feet, sometimes angrily trying to tear your sandals.
And you're alone. The only company is the incessant noise of the sea, which sweeps back and forth colored pebbles. A sound that is beautiful to listen to while lying down with eyes closed, letting his thoughts wander aimlessly.
But you can not stop.
The only thing you can do is to collect small fragments of glass polished by the sea gives you from time to time. So you try to sharpen the view, to distinguish the gleam of the polished surface of glass pebbles. And go home with your baby.
Yet when you slip back into his pocket, the pieces of glass have lost their splendor. Dry, do not shine the same light.
closed them in jars - even glass - divided according to the shades of color: different shades of green, brown, orange, white. Some rare example blue or violet.
One question, though, remains: would it not be better to leave them where they were? Why this mania for collecting, preserving, classifying?
The same goes for the memories.
A long walk along the beach. Waves come and go, stirring the pebbles on the shore. Sometimes you caress my feet, sometimes angrily trying to tear your sandals.
And you're alone. The only company is the incessant noise of the sea, which sweeps back and forth colored pebbles. A sound that is beautiful to listen to while lying down with eyes closed, letting his thoughts wander aimlessly.
But you can not stop.
The only thing you can do is to collect small fragments of glass polished by the sea gives you from time to time. So you try to sharpen the view, to distinguish the gleam of the polished surface of glass pebbles. And go home with your baby.
Yet when you slip back into his pocket, the pieces of glass have lost their splendor. Dry, do not shine the same light.
closed them in jars - even glass - divided according to the shades of color: different shades of green, brown, orange, white. Some rare example blue or violet.
One question, though, remains: would it not be better to leave them where they were? Why this mania for collecting, preserving, classifying?
The same goes for the memories.
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