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They are the
Little adventures
The compulsions, also known as
The big adventures

Or so it has been
And so it shall be, until
The Big Adventure

With no guarantee
And so until then, I remain

A slave to freedom, abounding in solitude
Pacifiers, substitutions


And when you read it
You were so small
You were frightened
Thought you’d be impressed, enlightened
But not at all
You were insulted, insecure, reactive, emotional not logical

Not tall like you look
Not all together when I put
Something before you you weren’t expecting
But anything I am writing
Is common or not but anyway spoken
Real, unrehearsed
Do you only know how to follow the verse?

But what about the bridge, the rhapsody, the free verse, the soliloquy?
What about different and exceptional and extraordinary?
What about nothing being black and white and reading between the lines?
And what about freedom of speech and make believe and all fiction having an ounce of truth but then the rest being fiction and not just seeing how it has been but being strong and smart enough to see how it could be?
Forget about me, what about you?
Forget about you, what about ME?

À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
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