I recently saw the movie, Wings of Desire… and I can’t seem to get this poem of my head…
When the child was a child,
It walked with its arms swinging.
It wanted the stream to be a river, the river a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child,
it didn’t know it was a child.
Everything was full of life, and all life was one.
When the child was a child,
It had no opinion about anything, no habits.
It often sat cross-legged, took off running, had a cowlick in its hair,
and didn’t make faces when photographed.
Vulnerable Is
Coming to terms with Loneliness
The going away of things
In time
In the end
I can't seem to be optimistic about the things that would benefit from optimism. As a pessimist, my optimism is always irrational.
Fear of Forgetting
When I was a child, I realised I was invisible. I was a terrified, quiet girl who blended into the background.
Failure.We all have dreams, we are all encouraged to dream. The world is ours, all we have to do it take it.