11.03.2015

Breaking Free


"I want to break free! 
I WANT TO BREAK FREE! 
I want to break free
I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
You're so self satisfied I don't need you
I've got to break free
God knows, God knows I want to break free..."
That's the feeling. I'm about to explode. Sure I'm lucky to have a job, a home, breakfast, lunch and dinner, clean clothes and a safe bed. Yes I am. But that isn't a life that I can call 'mine'. As always in period of the year I miss the freedom of the Summer.
At least there is the cyclocross, but on Sunday I'm so eager to be in the deep wild nature that I just go home when the sun sets.
I spend the morning at school and in the afternoon I have often to prepare lessons of to correct papers, so any seconds outside is gold, especially in the sun. Every second stolen to the work-cooking-cleaning routine is fresh air. My gypsy sould is particularly alive in these days.
"My train cross such a beautiful countryside and I can spot wild paths by the river that is shining in today full sun. Why must I go to work instead of to step deap into the forest? Money? What's money?" That's from Friday.

"A glorious sunny day again with all the crazy colour of the autumn, freezing. Again I can't avoid to think that I wasn't born to spend it inside a room. One day one day I'm going to break free..." This is from today.
Some weeks ago I caught a train to the seaside and went breathing the rainy windy air of the beach. The big blue above. 
Last Sunday I put my beloved boots on, loaded my backpack and went to the hills. 
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." 
Hell yeah! For freedom, solitude and beauty. 
Then I grab every free moment and run to the park, painting in the sun, my paper, colours and brushes scattered around on the tarmac. People pass by and glimpse on surprise. I just enjoy.
At night I'm exhausted, but twice a week I go dancing Flamenco. It's hard because you must think in no time how to move feet and hands. I'm not good, I know. I lack pratice, and the time to get it. Still I try... for the love of red Flamenco shoes. 
As far as love, there is nothing new, rather an old feeling very hard to tame.
"Fell asleep thinking of a friend of mine, woke up still thinking of him. No good because I know this must remain affection, esteem and care. I have already been here so I should be able to manage it. But I can't avoid to whisper to myself: what a pity! In another life maybe... It's such a sweet feeling...!"
That was few days ago and before a cosy conversation. My gypsy soul suffers of solitude, so much!

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