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Monday, November 29, 2004

One centimeter short

I can manage… a bank account… I can manage… a forum… I can manage… to read stuff that’s written on the paper… accept them, once in a while. I can manage… a schedule in a practical way… but when it comes to life I can’t manage, I can’t.

The duck’s eggs hatched… one of the duckling was gray… he was ugly and brave… walked the world looking for a place to belong to… He did not steal the peacock’s feathers… he believed in its own beauty… off he went on his journey… with just one destination. If dreamers are focused… sometimes they get scared.

Sometimes the go see cities and stop… outside the walls thinking… “I’ve reached you”… they are but one centimeter short… of their goal.

Now to dream and to achieve are too different things… struggle… pain… sorrow… sacrifices… all come together… like a six pack beer… you drink one… then the another… the more you drink… the more it gets bitter… I don’t drink but… once in a while… I have to sip too… so I won’t get drunk… the next time someone offers me something with… a smile.

It tastes like shit… but you can’t refuse… that’s how life… works… as a pretty hostess…. Pretty hostess higher bill.

So when I said no… to peacock’s feather… off I went… by myself.. in the world… beer after beer… I found out… the bitter taste of life. We are here but to suffer… we are here to hang on… we are here to dare flying.. although we are simply… birds who can swim.

And so I’ll waddle… chained… to the ground… looking up… at the sky… down at the cities… whose walls I want to cross… I make choices…. To suffer and go… to limp and don’t stop… to never look back… loose my left eye.

But life I will grope… with my heart throbbing… those walls I’ll pull down… and never stop one centimeter… short of my goal… I’ll belong.

Who said journey… is the destination… was not an ugly duck…. had no bank account.

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