August 5, 2011 § 2 Comments
Some people make us smile, just for who they are. What their secret is and where it lies I don’t know, but it enriches my heart every time. During silent nights, proceeding silent days, I picture dear, treasured smiles, in my head. Soothing and white, crooked and glad, they remind me of the essence behind. Sometimes, I can not help but smile while alone; on the bus, walking down the street, sleeping underneath the fresh shade of a tree. I smile and yet the smile does not belong to me. Thief as I have learned to be, it corresponds to a memory, a place; a dear departed friend. Thus, as a booty, hastily acquired, it hastily vanishes back… to its origins, to the past. I love smiles, and to recall them even more, but I also want – my deepest desire – to smile from within, no memory attached. For pure joy, for today, for who I am… I want to smile.