I stared at this wonderful city amazed. The hum that had permeated right into the skin of a world, the whispers of the past murmured by every rock, attracted me in.
All of a sudden, I lifted my eyes to the blue skies where clouds spread like lace. So beautiful it was; this elegance seemed like a fragile veil stretched over a land of loss.
I am here. I awoke in this city of a cosmos where I had actually never existed, never lived, a place utterly foreign to me.
The true frustration began in the heart of approval. My presence had but one ancient goal: to locate that familiar spirit.
The ache in my breast, the sorrow and pessimism felt along with this strangeness, was the cry of my heart. At first sight, the city was an impression of gratification and satisfaction.
Beneath the blue skies, in boutique cafés, in yards that reminded me of Italian roads, individuals drank their coffee and read their papers. They had actually conquered life, while I was however a lost wanderer.
As I scanned my environments like a newborn opening its eyes to the globe, a dangerous remorse increased within me. From my lips slipped a murmur only the wind and my heart can hear:
Exactly how will I ever before find you in this city …”
The city concealed, in its backstreets, a decay stripped of shade by damages and heaps of waste. My fate was always to look for that covert edge, a vagrancy that tried to absorb isolation.
I leaned my back versus the wreckage and sat. While I cried in the vacant great deals of the shanties, staring at the skies, that blue seemed to judge me in silence.
Children who roamed the neighborhood like little lords came close to. They stood silently over me, seeing. Their eyes appeared to claim,” ah, this scum has wound up right here once more” ; they were witnesses to this cycle. Once more I lifted my head to the sky that had first astounded me:
How will I ever discover you?” I sighed.
That inquiry spread like a curse. In that endless blue I searched for the echo of my anguish. In its infinity I attempted to catch the pale resonance of a search.
A search that waited at the threshold where nothingness starts.
What adhered to was loss.
The only point I remember was waking with that said pains in my breast, an injury murmuring that the objective had not yet been met.