Inici Blogs Aprendre a proposar…

Aprendre a proposar…

33

Escric, no se fer una altra cosa. I veig passar els dies, les setmanes, els mesos, les estacions de l’any paraula a paraula, frase a frase. Avui sento, potser per primer cop, ke és arribada la tardor. Consulto el meu horoscop, escolto les emocions i les reaccions més íntimes, les que no s’expliquen ni aquí ni a ningú. Intueixo. I faig. Em sorprenc a mi mateix en algunes coses. Em sorprenen els sentiments, com evolucionen, com es fan forts, indestructibles, la tenacitat del cor, la resistència. Són mecanismes que funcionen sense pensar, es fan presents en el silenci. Parla el cor. Necessito escoltar-lo. M’he equivocat massa vegades a la vida. He triat dreceres i ho he pagat car. Ara no em fan mandra els camins llargs i dificils, el de fer el que sento, el de no enganyar-me, el de reconèixer allò de mi que detesto, el de mostrar-me sense cuirassa, sense fer cap paper, el de no callar el que dins em crema per inutil que pugui semblar… De res no val intentar justificar contradiccions ni febleses. Son part de tots, son part de mi. No vull semblar qui no soc. Massa anys d’aparences per aconseguir que? Llum de bijuteria. Qui de debò em coneix sap de què parlo. No gosso demanar ni tan sols comprensió. Faig el que el cor em dicta. Si, somio una altra vida. Qui no ho fa? Però si la vida és allò ke passa mentre estem ocupats en mil històries urgents, tinc els ulls ben oberts per no deixar escapar ni la mica més petita de felicitat possible. Ni la més minúscula. I cuido dels somnis i de les esperances. Sento la tardor. Proposo escalfor, no em fa vergonya fer-ho…

Golden Autumn Day. Van Morrison.

Well I heard the bells ringing, I was thinking about winning
In this God forsaken place
When my confidence was well, then I tripped and I felt
Right flat on my face
Now I’m standing erect, and I feel like coming back
And the sun is shining gold
Put a smile on my face, get back in the human race
And get on with the show
And I’m taking in the Indian Summer
And I’m soaking it up in my mind
And I’m pretending that it’s paradise
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day
On a golden autumn day, an a golden autumn day
In the wee midnight hour I was parking my car
In this dimly lit town,
I was attacked by two thugs, who took me for a mug
And shoved me down on the ground
And they pulled out a knife, and I fought my way up
As they scarpered from the scene
Well this is no New York street, and there’s no Bobby on the beat
And things ain’t just what they seem
And I’m taking in the Indian Summer
And I’m soaking it up in my mind
And I’m pretending that it’s paradise
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day
On a golden autumn day, an a golden autumn day
Who would think this could happen in a city like this
Among Blake’s green and pleasant hills,
And we must remember as we go through September
Among these dark satanic mills
If there’s such a thing as justice I could take them out and flog them
In the nearest green field
And it might be a lesson to the bleeders of the system
In this whole society
And I’m taking in the Indian Summer
And I’m soaking it up in my mind
And I’m pretending like it’s paradise
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day, golden autumn day …