We walk fast and we're waiting for trains to stop by,
we walk fast we haven't changed and time and time just goes by
we walk fast and we're hiding behind behind quiet smiles
we walk fast we haven't met and yet and yet we have tried
we walk fast we're escaping the lack the lack of someone
we walk fast we skip talking we close our eyes we don't want
we walk fast and we're waiting we walk fast we skip dancing
we walk fast and we're waiting for time to stop now
we walk fast
we skip dancing
we shut our hearts we still want.....
Saycet - We Walk Fast ( Through The Window, 2010)
How to wake up without hurt?
Restart without horror?
My sleep carried me
to that kingdom where life is inexistent
and I remain inert without passion.
How to repeat, day after day,
the incomplete fable,
to bear the likeness of all rough things
of tomorrow with the harsh things today?
How to protect myself from wounds
that tear in me the events,
that resembles the earth and its purple
And the one more wound inflicted by myself
every single hour - torturer
of the innocent that I am not?
No one answers, life is cruel.
Carlos Drummond De Andrade; To wake,to live
“So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the
loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us - that's
snatched right out of our hands - even if we are left completely
changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to
play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the
end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off
behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday.
Leaving behind a feeling of insurmountable emptiness...
Maybe, in some distant place, everything is already, quietly, lost.
Or at least there exists a silent place where everything can
disappear, melting together in a single, overlapping figure. And as
we live our lives we discover - drawing toward us the thin threads
attached to each - what has been lost. I closed my eyes and tried to
bring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. Drawing them
closer, holding on to them. Knowing all the while that their lives
― Haruki Murakami