I was reading some old stuff that I wrote last year and I found something I wrote in english ( I don’t think many of you would understand what I write if it’s in italian), it is the preface of a book I was going to write but then I stopped because my life went crazy and I had no time. I still have to decide what to do about it. Anyway, here it is:
My dark land was dead. I could see trough the icy glass of my window, I breathed against it trying the more human thing that failed. Even my breath wasn’t warm anymore. I just stared resigned day after gloomy day, night after eternal night, trapped among the walls of my once house, my golden prison, the witch called it. I was being punished, and maybe I deserved this. Cold was reigning over me, over my castle, over my land. Life died long ago, and I died with it.
Then she came, and everything was suddenly so bright I could see nothing for a while. I was lost in my blindness, I couldn’t see the flowers bloom in my garden, the little green leaves hanging on the once bare branches of the trees. The sun touched me, I could feel my blood warming up in my veins, my cheeks coloured, and my breath mist over the glass. The corners of my lips relearn how to come up and form a smile, and in the same time salted water spilled from my eyes – I had forgotten that taste, the sweetest tears of incredolous happiness.