The story of the tree with the secret

Once upon a time there was a tree. A tree that could not grow. A tree that was as short as a bush, but it was a tree. This tree had a secret. It may have been short and small from the outside, but it was tall and big from the inside. It grew inwards and it grew fast. It grew so fast that after some years its branches had expanded through land and sea and it kept going on and on. It would not have been satisfied until it conquered the world.
One day a child needed to rest. It was a child that was lost and needed company. It needed warmth and love. This child knew how to see. It could see beneath and beyond and could feel the deep hidden secrets.
After walks through the day light and after walks through the night shadows, the child found our tree with the secret. And as if it was hypnotized, the child sat under it and fell asleep. And it was dreaming days and nights and in its sleep it cried and laughed and loved and hated.
The time passed by, but the child had not waken up. These dreams kept it captured, hostage of its own imagination. And the child needed to be rescued from itself.
One day the child was crying again. It cried hot tears that watered the ground. Within its fists the child was holding tight the soil that fed the tree. It needed someone to hold, someone to hug.
The tree, that wanted to conquer the world, felt the child. It decided to help it. So, instead of breathing inwards, it started breathing outwards. And thus, it grew outwards and got taller and taller and bloomed and gave birth to fruits, all kinds of them- apples, oranges, peaches, cherries. Oh, it grew so beautifully…
And one day, one apple, one firm shiny red apple fell down. And the child woke up.

Oh voice of Richard

And you were a boy with the promise of a Man.
And you were a boy with a promise of the sea.
And you were my place. My Gentleman of Solitude.
My Gentleman of Solitude you broke into my soul.
And you hurt your Woman.
You never wrote a letter again.
I will sail away.
I will sail away now.
You hurt your Woman again my Man.
I will sail away now.
You were a boy with the promise of a Man.
You are a boy with no promise of a Man.

Cherries for L.

Once upon a time there was a girl. An intimidated girl with bright eyes- bright like stars. This girl loved cherries and in her small garden of her small home, she had planted a small cherry tree. Everyday when the sun came out of the night, the beautiful girl would wake up, would pour cold milk into a glass and would cut a slice from her favorite cherry-pie that she would have just baked the night before. Then, she would take her favorite book and she would go out to the garden and she would sit under her favorite cherry tree. And then, the beautiful girl with the bright eyes- bright like stars- she would start reading her stories. Her favorite ones were those where mysterious things happened to mysterious people. And with these mysterious stories the intimidated girl would forget to finish her slice of cherry-pie, while her cold milk would end up warm, because the intimidated girl was not so intimidated any more as she dreamt of living adventures. She was dreaming that she was a woman that travelled around the world. She found herself in Egypt, in Africa, in India, in China. Oh, yes, in China. There she found the most wonderful cherry orchards all bloomed and all aromatic. And when her travels would come to an end, she would open her eyes, stand up and move away from her favorite cherry tree.

One night, the wind was rough. The rain fell heavy. And the cherry tree was weak. And the morning when the intimidated girl with the bright eyes- bright like stars- woke up and went out to the garden, her heart almost broke into pieces. The cherry tree had fallen down. All defeated. And the girl cried all day and all night and she cried like that for seven days. But the eighth day, the intimidated girl with the bright eyes- bright like stars- poured cold milk into a glass and drunk it all- bottoms up. And she decided.

And the day that followed the intimidated girl with the bright eyes- bright like stars- had a ticket in her hand. And that ticket would get her to China. Oh, yes, to China. Where she would find her cherry orchards all bloomed and all aromatic. And the intimidated girl was not so intimidated anymore because she was about to live adventures.

I want a red apple.-

Today my name is Marion and I am good at archery. I know what to look, where to look and how to look. I am to the point and I aim exactly where I have to aim. My tool? Confidence. My target? An apple. A red apple. Sweet and firm. That’s my target. An apple.

I close one eye- the other is wide open. My ears are wide open. I smell the air, the soils, the woods. And the red apple is there, provoking me. Today my name is Marion and I aim at a red apple. Today my name is Marion and I am challenged.
I want a red apple.-

Colours

A yellow car. The blue sea. A green tree. The yellow sun. A white dress. His dark hair. Her dark hair. Her dark eyes. His deep eyes. The blue sea. The sea. The sea.

The sea is comforting. It is a lullaby. The sea does not care about emotions. The sea does not care about dramas. The sea does not care about melodramas. The sea just is. It moves and it rests and it moves again. And it just lets you be.

My yellow car. My blue sea. My green tree. My yellow sun. My white dress. His my dark hair. My dark hair. His my deep eyes. My sea. My sea. It just lets me be.

THE GAME OF THE ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES

The dancer dances with his metallic partner. She is from steel. He dances with her. With the woman of steel. He develops his body and his soul and his emotions and his mind because of her and with her. And she- the woman of steel- feels him, dances with him, flows, stumbles, falls, gets up. They make love. They dance. They make love. They dance. They make love the dance. They dance the love. He watches her. He touches her. She lowers her eyes and then she looks back at him. She looks deep into him. And then she grabs two daggers. And she dances with the daggers. The woman of steel dances with the daggers and provokes him. And lures him. And he is lured by her. He walks backwards- his back finds a wall- he rests there- he surrenders. She dances with the daggers. The woman of steel dances with the daggers. He surrenders. She dances. He surrenders. She kills him with the daggers. He bleeds- he dies. She kills herself. He comes back to life. She comes back to life. They come back to life. They kiss. They dance the love. They dance. They make love. They dance. They make love. The dancer dances with his metallic partner. She is from steel. He dances with her. With the woman of steel.

For my kind T.

Once upon a time there was a kind cat.
His fur was silver coal, his eyes were yellow green. He was a kind cat. He was dreaming of becoming an astronaut. Every night he used to look at the dark starry night and imagine that he was off to big adventures. Once, he even made it to the moon where he met a beautiful lady cat with fur of gold and eyes of sapphire. Another time, he even reached the burning sun where he was not burnt by the fire and and the light, but instead he found a fountain of cold water. And there, he made a wish: he wished for a long journey, the longest of his life.
And one day, it was night. A kind star called the kind cat that was sleeping a deep sleep. The cat woke up and found a rope of silk hanging from the sky. A silver coal rope like his silver coal fur. And the kind cat with the kind eyes grabbed the rope and started his journey. The longest journey of his life.

For my friend, Marina-still a child.
What lies beyond programme is not chaos: it’s life.
Programmes exist not only to tame a chaotic life, but mainly to facilitate and elevate it.
So we may say: do not wait for progammes as if you are waiting for authoritative powers to justify your existence. There is life happening out there and you make it happen as much as the others.
But now, it is me who takes the role of an authoritative power and tells you what to do. Instead: I will tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. That little girl did not wonder if it was beautiful or not, thin or not, tall or not. She just waited each year for the summer to come and go and play by the sea and in the sea. She was quite romantic that girl, a creature that floated on clouds- even though a sea lover.
However, something happened- an event that she cannot recall- and that girl, from a violently young age- started to act by programme: either for it or against it.

To make things more clear: she started eating so as not to get fat- although she was not. And every time she ate something fattening, she felt that her mischief would put her out to chaos. The only way she felt saved was through the programme. She listened carefully nutritionists, doctors, models or her grandmother- she was such a beauty when she was young and her critical eye now was the most severe judge.
Always under the looks and eyes of others. Always under their looks.

And the girl forgot how to look herself with her own eyes, how to feel her body and how to feel her beauty rather than define it and name it. She was in need of a pause.
Sadly though, the pause for the girl was not a pause but it was a paralysis. Pause promises life, it is a temporary dynamic rest full of possibilities. But her pause was a stop, a small death (and not one promising an afterlife) with none possibilities.

This girl now is 30 years old. And she’s just a child. Still.

Once you've told a story, you've sung within a tune.
Once you've taken a picture, you've taken a point of view.
Just rest for a while and take a breath. And take a walk- they'll follow next.