Culture. Eat it
25 May 2017
F. Or “The Poetry”
Padova looks like a very superficial girl.
Here we go walkin’in the two of us, within pollen, sun, rain then sun and then sun again.
We don’t know that much about each other
except the fact that I see what you see through the photos you take
and now we’re closer and we like tellling ourselves stories about our lives.
I’ve been wondering so many times about the possibility to have met you somewhere out there before…
Could it be that we argued for something? I mean something like jumping the queue at the Romana …. But I don’t think you’re one of that kind
Have I ever told you that if I had to choose an icecream that reminds me of you I’d probably choose Fior Di Latte?
The real icecream: honest, simple but tasty.
It doesn’t need anything else to be complete
Like you. My dear, rare confidant
Do you feel like writing on our imaginary notebook?
Your own task is really important…You know… Filling the vacuum, to guide faces to the beauty.
Mother Natures knows it, this is the reason why she has shaped you delicate and fragile, to able you to reach every broken heart, touching their wounds.
I’m trying to find the right words to explain my happy wonderment to know that I’m not alone, you’re outside and wherever I look, you’re out there.
We don’t know that much about each other exept the fact that is doing a year or more that I see what you see throught your pictures and now it’s you that I’m seeing
As you deserve to be seen: in silence.
I see you bright and clear
I feel myself no longer alone
But this could be our secret
Are you listening? You are Poetry.
Ph. Sara Cartelli
© The Eat Culture
Community Manager with a passion for sociology, I've lived for six years between Padua and Milan. Once I wrote an odd theory on Mathematics, on a Mathematics task. I took zero and the professor told me that I had to find an outlet for my too much imagination, if I wanted to live in the real world. I bought a notepad and began to write to him everything that was going through my head, so love for writing was born, love for expression.