Tag Archive: sad but true


4325

There was a ring I never took off when I was no more than a teen girl.
It wasn’t valuable, found it dirty and dusty at the end of a drawer in a long before abandoned house.
It missed a little tiny diamond on its cast and it was so tiny in size I could only wear it on my left ring finger.
The center stone was a smoothed out ruby with a square shape.
But the beauty in it was not the stones.
It was in the fine work on the silver.
The thin veneers running along the sides in fragile, intricate leaves that could only be made by hand and with skill.
I never seen since a work like that ever.
It fitted my finger to the point I thought it was made for me and me alone.
It was probably just a cheap trinket bought at a fair or something like that in the time when my grandmother was just a young girl.
She’s 96 now, I’m 30 and the ring is still with me.
Worthless and consumed, but the silver still shines and fits somewhat.
The leaves are still there and they mean a world never gone to me.
Afternoons and evenings, card games and teas, red roses and blue hydrangeas.

You have forgotten, Gran.
I did not.
You can’t remember.
I shall do it for you for all the time I’m still given on this Earth.

tea-party-sharing-tea-with-grandma-1936-mike-savad

[coloured photo by Mike Savad]
[https://pixels.com/featured/tea-party-sharing-tea-with-grandma-1936-mike-savad.html]

Annunci

There are days like today.
Where I’m so fed up when I stop working in the evening.
When I just snap at little things going wrong, screaming.
I don’t have the patience to prepare my customary cup of tea before dinner nor the desire to eat, and already I skipped lunch and breakfast, like a total moron.
I’m so primitively mad I have no regrets saying ‘Fuck you!’ to the world in general.
That’s when I put my phone on hold, close the door and make a dive for the bed, punching everything I can reach.
It’s childish but harmless.
I usually get up after that for a hot bath + washing my hair.
That doesn’t really help much but I usually feel human again.
These are the days without Ti.
I can’t help it, I tried.

He’s away a lot this days and I’m deprived of my favourite ray of sunshine.
He makes me happy, he makes me angry, he knows how and has the smile of an angel.

An year passed and the sadness has not changed…Mourning I am still for you, Rickman.

Be at peace and have a good eternity…

IMG_20160114_212920

Actors are agents of change. A film, a piece of theatre, a piece of music, or a book can make a difference. It can change the world.

Alan Rickman

2346

Time is ticking out to a place I never thought of.

It’s quite weird to lose oneself into some form of memory induced dream, then let reality kick you in the face.

I’m not going to regret things I never wanted in the first place, but the possibility of them will hunt me till my last days on this Earth.

Even the ones I let go because I never truly felt to deserve.

I have many regrets, one of them is You.

I still dream of you after ten years and, when it angered me beyond my wits for your betrayal, now I find my anger is gone and I can see you for what you were.

Better than me, witty, patient and deserving of a good life.

I’m not going to let you find me, if you ever searched that is.

The longest span of my ultimate plan to give you freedom, at the very least.

I  was unworthy (still am) and today I shall remember you and hope for your happiness.

One thing only remains and I will leave it where I confessed it to myself after all this time.

I will let us lay and fester under the fragrant shade of roses and wisterias.

And someday I will follow my impractical dreams into the soil.

Road of polymers

Quando sei in macchina.
Guidi sì, ma il più ascolti.
And I have got your bible and your gun.
Pensi a quello che è stato ed alle scelte che mi dicevi “Non ti porteranno da nessuna parte.”
And I’m so happy – so happy! – now that you’re gone.

I’m getting drunk tonight.
Yep, definitely.
Shame you left.
Shame it didn’t work so well.
Shame nothing is meant to ever make sense.
I’m sorry for all that it values.

Saddens me to say

I still long for that day buried behind leaves…

 La Caverna delle Sette Gocce

Hear my voice.
Let it consume you.
Fill your dreams until-
Hear my voice.
Where there’s nothing else.
In hell and despair.
Soar like the moon.
Giving you a taste
Of Heavens denied.
Without intellect.
Still will be the silence
Looming inside.
Withering by the minute.
In the shadow you dwell in
Counting your precious coins.
Still you’ll hear my voice.
May the light of your candle
Give in to oblivion.
Freeing my eyes.
Behind a veiled reflection
In the silvery mirror of time.
Negate my memory.
Gliding through closed doors.
Swimming beside your heart.
Hear the voice you deny.

Oh sono arrabbiata, sì sì.
Sto piangendo.
Mi sento una mega pallina tesa di rabbia.
Fa così male!
Fa male!
Perché ogni volta che c’era materiale live in questo benedetto documentario rimanevo in attesa con un tuffo al cuore per le parti vocali di Anette ed invece mi aspettava il vuoto!
*Si asciuga gli occhiali presa dal break down emotivo*

Sono sincera.
Floor ha il potenziale di riportare il tutto ad altezze sbalorditive. (attendo il loro prossimo cd, certo come il sole questo!)
Ma tutto il resto ha il sapore delle spalle voltate, il chiusa parentesi, del “l’atmosfera sfiora la perfezione, okay spacchiamo la venue!”
Imaginaerum è stato il primo vero cd dei NW per cui ho dovuto veramente attendere e ha superato tutte le mie aspettative! Ho passato la settimana dopo la release con un terribile hangover da ‘genio Holopainiano’.
Quel disco l’ho recensito anche qui, cosa più unica che rara!

Rispetto la Floor ed il suo potenziale, che c’è.  È indubbio!
Ma non riesco a reggere le canzoni di Imag cantate da lei.
Non sopporto sentirla cantare!
È una tragedia, un tradimento al lavoro di una persona (Anette) che si meritava le ottime recensioni.
Aveva trovato il suo posto e l’ampiezza di voce necessaria per farmi sognare.
La Jansen in fondo è un’ottima cantante, e se seguo il punto di vista Tuomas nel documentario riesco anche a capirlo.
Ma da qui a perdonare o lasciar correre in nome della musica, no.
Nightwish siete diventati dei veri professionisti (anche nei documentari, vi siete dimenticati di lasciare le comic relief che decisamente avrebbero aiutato!).
Dopo due ore di siffatto documentario mi sento sola.
Ma ‘sola’.
Sento il vibe della band. Riconosco che porterà grandi cose.
Contemporaneamente lo vivo con distacco da totale indifferenza, roba da sofferenza garantita.
Non toccherò il dvd del concerto al Wacken nemmeno se Holopainen in persona scendesse dalla Finlandia apposta in moppine, cappello da Santa Claus, e Korg in spalla; puccioso come un peluche con quei suoi capelli, le guanciotte ed il barbone.
Una cosa rimane uguale all’Ottobre 2012: non scriverò mai più una sola parola per il fandom.
Mi fa veramente troppo male e sto continuando a piangere come una stupida.

Il mio pensiero in pillola:
Musica, ascolta solo la musica.
Leggi i testi, lascia che il suono faccia vibrare i timpani, passi la gola e rimbombi dentro la cassa toracica.
Ma non guardare la copertina, non ‘pensare’, ignora la band.
L’importante è l’emozione che dà quella musica, riuscita a tirarmi fuori dalla follia nel giugno del 2009.
Pura, inalterata, follia suicida.

All dead, all dead
All the things I had.
Silence in the head.
Overcoming treat.
Behind forest green.
Rocks, meadows, azure ponds.
Dust and scorching suns.
That’s where I found you, stargazer.
And that’s where I lost you.

Fasi della luna, numeri ed attese.

There’s nothing else worth.

Sto per esplodere.

Voglio sparire nella nuvola di fumo a forma di fungo.

Diventare radioattiva per non dover parlare con nessuno.

Desidero silenzio.

Quello fondo.

Il tipo che non ti permette di pensare.

The quiet that bears your anger, hate, despair, affection, radiance and love.

The silence where dustclouds are tinted copper and everything looks like a painting but just in your mindset.

I heard screams. I still hear them.

In cadence with the ticking of the clock forever buried inside the folds of my head.

The one clock that chimes the hours of the fate I refused.

I don’t have time, I hear and in the silence I look.

I’m destined to my own denies.

Leave me be.

Human Pages

The Best of History, Literature, Art & Religion

The Travellothoner

Travel, Running, Fitness, Life, Writing.

Let's Support Them

Make them smile and happy

The Paper Drafts

Creating Art, Poetry and Fiction.

Natalie Breuer

Natalie. Writer. Photographer. Etc.

The Alchemist's Studio

Raku pottery, vases, and gifts

The Depth of Now

By Martina Korkmaz

thedihedral.wordpress.com/

Climbing, Outdoors, Life!

The Renegade Press

Tales from the mouth of a wolf

Discover

A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.

Demoni di EFP

Una grande minaccia infesta EFP e l’intero mondo delle fanfictions! Le storie squallide!

The Minds of ...

Nelphaell Simblr (Hyde)

INTJ:Break-The-Chain

Empower Yourself

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Poetica di Viaggio

Equilibrio tra preparazione e improvvisazione, tra emozione e razionalità

Bikes Philosophy

We're gonna travel the world by bike to spread love, respect and culture of bicycle all over!

Doduck

Lo stagismo è il primo passo per la conquista del mondo.

Racconti ondivaghi che alla fine parlano sempre di amore

“Ships are safe in a harbour, but that’s not what ships are made for”

RUMORE

Interferenze radio e disturbi di segnale

Tea Leaves and Reads

“As always, one of her books was next to her.” ― Markus Zusak

Mathew Lyons

WRITER & HISTORIAN

Livelines

«Sono una figura di un romanzo ancora da scrivere, che passa aerea e sfaldata senza aver avuto una realtà, fra i sogni di chi non ha saputo completarmi». [Pessoa]

Ps: Fun & Travels

Ami viaggiare? Sei sul sito giusto!

Fools Journal

Magazine di cultura: letteratura, fotografia, arte, moda, queer life, eventi, musica, cinema, attualità

Dimension Gate

"All worlds, all of time are yours to explore"

UnTipoQualunque

Cose che mi piacciono trattate con semplicità.

Gio. ✎

Avete presente quegli scomodi abiti vittoriani? Quelli con la gonna che strascica un po' per terra, gonfiata sul di dietro dalla tournure? Quelli con i corsetti strettissimi e i colletti alti che solleticano il collo? Ecco. Io non vorrei indossare altro.

April is such a Cursed month

Permanent wounds that never heal.

dodicirighe

...di più equivale a straparlare.

Vivoescrivo

God Hates Us All!

Fools Journal

Magazine di cultura: letteratura, fotografia, arte, moda, queer life, eventi, musica, cinema, attualità

Anette Olzon Italia

Your first Italian source about Anette Olzon

Show me a garden that's bursting into life

I'm contemplating thinking about thinking

Kathryn Dawson Photography

"Vision is the Art of seeing the invisible" - Jonathon Swift -

Briciolanellatte Weblog

Navigare con attenzione, il blog si sbriciola facilmente

the m0vie blog

an Irish nerd's eye look at the world of film

TheCoevas official blog

Strumentisti di Parole/Musicians of words

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

music, poetry, musings, photography and philosophy from a woman who found her way back home and wants you to come over for a hike and a cocktail.

F. H. Hakansson

F. H. Hakansson - Writer

The Harry Potter Companion

the story, the beauty, and the magic of harry potter