While I was wandering around my town, “how much is it?” was the typical talk of a street, but that buzz has silenced at a moment I have reached my home. I see just mysterious patterns of the light while I looking through the window. They are so captivating.
Does anything changed?
The state of the paving impacts road traffic, but our spirituality doesn’t depend on the earthly conditions.
Wow, that’s the dream of the word of the mouth that stumbles on the renaming what we see according to our involvement in the specifics of our activity.
Do the synonyms decorate our talk or distort the truth? What is the beauty? Why do the poets put their message between the lines?
The freedom makes us dependent on our own interpretations, and our choice becomes our life.