My year is not made of 365 days, as I had been taught to believe. My year is a parable that can be explained again according to the same coordinates. I shape the seasons as they like, I change the body and head, the mood and the days with a scheme that takes only a few variables. Yet I never liked mathematics, is why I am forced to notice regular and constant in a life that is always changing day after day in the same way?
June, for example, is always yellow. A strong yellow, like the ears of ripe corn, the sun that draw children. Yellow as half of the flag of Brazil that is about to welcome you, my brother, for half a year. Your are never half as mine, because for you it's different, everything is amazing, and you do not need to think smart in this mechanism in order to feel safe.
Maybe you do not need to feel safe. It must be like, if you find the courage to turn around the world without ever need to return it must be so if you love to jump in the waves on a board as thin as the horizon, so if you must know to rock to the rhythm of the samba and the melancholy in life and find hope, dream and passion.
We are so different that no one would tell us grew up in the same womb, who knows if you envy me something that you never had, I wonder if you ever feel the lack of something. Yet one can not say that you do not try, you did not want to discover. But perhaps these are the things that happen to you that you discover, for all imprevidibilità of the case that I have never been able to recognize or accept. You live and experience, as a good physical astronomy as you are. I know a lot more first what is happening to me and that will happen to me: because I'm afraid I will be surprised?
Life is circular, someone once said. And someone else was talking about courses and applications. Yet life is not under our control, what it should think they can run at will?
You learn to teach their fears, or overcomes the fear when it comes.
You and I have made two different choices, I would say the opposite.
I do not know which one is right, but you're braver than me. Or unconscious, that I never understood. And sometimes I like to live like you do. Only every so often to see what its like, let me go to the security of being able to receive all raise their arms to heaven to enjoy a drop of rain.
take at least you know what I know to give. Not because I am generous, or not only, but because they receive is much more difficult for me. I prefer to keep it tight because I'm afraid of losing it, you do not you ever wonder if someone can steal something, you leave open all the doors of the house. Only every now and then you went wrong, often too little to think about changing. Yet you also have something to learn. But who knows why, to me that I've always known it does not seem that important.
Make a good trip and learn what you do not know yet, I'll try to do the same. In six months it will be in November, will be a half years that gives me comfort, it will be daddy's birthday and will be more time that passes, so the same for me last November, so different for you. But something like never before, because already it is not. Grandma is gone, and nothing seems the same.
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