Dear Heleno I am listening to:
A long letter about our past, our history…what are you telling me…what is the story about..who I did hurt when I first arrive?… The wounds…we have open..the walks we have done…everything that happens to us in our previous life…not sure who come first. The space was empty, a lot of trees and sand….sun…and water. The sound of the birds was intense and continue…the colour was…gold? Where am I. Who are you and where I can find you. Let me be You. When I see me I hear you. Your voice comes through the sound of your fingers typping on a old typewriting machine. Where did you found it..? To whom it belongs? Tell me the story …the story of your native world…I miss your past…I miss your treasures…we lost it…but now we found it. It is there hidden behind that mirror I can feel it is inside me…
I see me and I feel you, your world…your deep and profound roots coming into my soul…I am not only me anymore. I can not be only me from that moment I touch your ground…
I can hear the sound of your finger writing on the sand…the silence of your movement echoes on my hear. I hear the sound of your presence…that’s all I can hear from now.
I can hear You. Can you see Me? Can you see my reflex behind that mirror? Listening to the sound of your presence?
C
