FREELANCE HAPPINESS

What makes me happy the most? To be able to provide somebody else’s happiness. Of course I like little external joys that are provoked by other human, but I don’t surrender to the expectative of a foreign response. What counts is here, nowhere else in this globe. What is the wonder? That now that there is no intention, it just flows. Whatever I am I am, despite of… and the relevance does not increase by hollow flattering or the recognition, that false friend semi buried in a sandbox. And it happens to be that I am under the glass of the exclusive items showcase. Yes, the same that is talking, the one that once was resigned itself to be a bargain sale, by life’s discomfort, by pushing too hard against what is essential. There is nothing more attractive to me than the marriage with nature, the one take wild profiles associated by similarity. So come and crown me, the one for so long already known as an ascetic queen, let me deck you out with this garland inside the garland that bloomed in my birth. There is no actual certification, no grade achieved or to achieve, the count grows by being plugged to the interstellar balance that preceded and will remain. I can’t help but to love all that is here in this moment around me. What I was given is not mine is a vehicle to serve in the name of the rotational health. I can’t explain how gratifying is to enjoy the new order that is created by exploiting this refreshing condition, it revives anything and anyone by proximity, I can tell. All that was necessary was the absence of need for fulfillment, due to the fact that the amphora of earthy body clay containing the ethereal soul fluids is on its own complete and doesn’t really need to be fulfilled. B_Nour

Pending from perspective

And the light came to me....

from in between the trees' lace.

The centenary marriage

Kind of busy

today :)

Roadside miracle shrooms...

I took this picture early this morning... i was surprised nobody else would stop and admire this little wonder, they were too much in a hurry to get to their jobs i guess....

THE AGE OF THE GIST

What a day, what a day… too short anyway. Like those ones at the funfair when everything seemed to pass by so fast that only the smell on the clothes, bubble gum pink cotton candy, would certify it all happened. Now-a-days the tasks are harsher that the ones of a painted tin spinning top, but no the intentions, rocket propelled frenetic rhythm, eager to do as much as possible between the squashed minutes. My querulous arch has a dual face; being a comedy mask that once cries twice laughs. If I only wouldn’t need to sleep, if only I could keep the illusory daytime’s programming wheel stuck in second one with a toothpick. What a wonderful multiplied history would be written, with no sense of end, elongated subsistence enriched by the eager to persist here and now. I ask myself how I did all these years, where are the garbage bags? Is it that something that I should fear? It is similar to the dependence on the virtual tools, but this time I work like a teenager is obligated to. No parents looking, not need for it to preserve the diligent tone, ant martial step, putting bricks under the bricks, this is the age of the gist. Starting under the impulse of the inner spirit, sleeping beauty, ignored for silent. As it is said, “You will recognize them by their fruits”, and the sweat and mud that comes with it. I am going crazy to make of the harvest instant the best one the events, messy busy, trying to perform to all the requested gigs. 2011 comes crammed of juicy irresistible, though not for free, gifts. B_Nour