Mara

To wake all up while they were walking slept, taking advantage of the penumbras scrubbed in the fabric that alone I could see, feeling slowly and carefully the forms that were tormenting the darkness. Extracting the tones of my box of colours and decking my paintbrushes of the texture that I was dreaming.

To wake up when my anxious hands were asking inexplicably for my attention, a creative need that was mitigating every pain taking the life without at least to breathe.
There was at the time the awakening of the dream of the dreams, of the thousands of colours that resounding (incredible) were scaring so much to my reason.

All the expressiveness omitted for years was showing now under my skin (leather), as a heated explosion of new sensations, as an immense large window full of breeze capable of flogging all my mad and unstoppable pulse. Awakening while even it was sleepy to give the sense to a heart that had sailed in solitarily asking always why of so many search.

Definitively it is the awakening of a fright, of all the fears frightened in that corner that one day I sacrificed, now that I am awake I am going to fly with my wings impregnated with the love by the felt, to allow that my hands should dominate the mind, and the tact of those old fingerprints remember me forever to walk, feeling the beginning as the magic aura that deposits me today here

And now that of surplus that I have woken up, I am going to fill my palette of dreams and to give me the Sun in the cheeks stretching the hope, believing in the possibility of the reality I will tie the desire to my linens learning to listen to your voice, breathing the days and the nights in order that I get lost between (among) the white fabrics savouring the light.
Now that you are in candle (sail) I am going to show you the awake dreams that I have.