When Dayne approaches the truth, he is like a dark cavalier on a short breed humble horse, holding in this right hand a fork full of sorrow. He is the most gabby person I know. Ready any time to jump in a conversation and add spicy details, that would make the audience laugh and marvel at him. This makes him feel enjoyable as he likes to be listent. Sometimes I intercepted his sorrow, maybe the only few times when he seems authentic towards his life’s actions. He would be that cavalier which would fight for the most dark idea in a accursed land, where all surroundings would dare to defeat his believes.
These days in Czech Republic, life starts pretty much the same. Early mornings showing off faces too tired of life, same boring lines throw off to people around, just from the fear of not jumping out of the everyday routine. I surprise myself making wry nose just when hearing this mediocre pattern. Why people can not say truthful things, when they are asked?! I was searching for the answer to this particular question for a while already. How many times I enjoyed my spirit with observation of people around me…Each time was like reading their stories and watching them day after day, was like turning pages of an invisible book, that would not only make me avoid their mistakes, but also would make me try to fix the issues of others. Or at least to understand them.
That day on the land of sorrow, I heard once again Dayne speaking about vulgarism as a carrion apple, which you will throw away immediately, and replace it by a completely honest version of it. This idea in his mouth sounded more like a depravity of lie, as this dark cavalier would never embrace the honesty. The sorrow extended too much in his life, and his only satisfaction seems to have been for too munch long sadly, the probability to say another lie that could confuse the judgement of anywho will listen. The victory of having another poor soul believing his words was throwing him off any sorrow and was making him believe his life could change.
Bent under the weight of his whole life washed-out pursuit, he was walking comfortable in his new dark skin which he knew was fitting him better than anything else. That day, he spoke a lot, he screamed, he struggled in his own sorrow, but he couldn’t ask for help. The lies were choking him, and his words of truth couldn’t go out of this mouth. Instead he was slitting himself more and more into a life that no one else than him want it.
1. Breakfast with chesnut and soft boiled egg
2. Winter going away
3. Fresia spring love