I am here, alone
Sitting in the middle
Of a beautiful and peaceable painting,
nothing is moving.
I am looking at everything,
And looking at nothing,
An intruder breeze whispers at me,
I was in another painting,
A vivid painting,
Something in there,
it suggested movements,
Laughs and noises
Who was capable to capture that moment?
Everything was noise around us,
The bitter macaw was claiming her freedom,
The radio was playing an old and slow song,
As slow as my uncle steps,
And we were there
Arguing each gamming piece put on the table
What passion in each argument!
In other time, other civilization,
We could be philosophers on the grounds of the Lyceum.
Coming back to my peaceful painting
Where nothing is moving,
I realize that
Time is an inexorable strength
All of us, are under its power
Just a painting can stop the time
But not the kind of painting
which eternally hanging in a museum
It is the painting created by our senses,
With an infinity spectrum of colors, smells, and flavors.
I stopped the time that day,
Our last day together,
Nothing Special but forever impressed in my memory.