crossed the sea in my life

in #writing6 years ago

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It may seem like I'm ready to write, or narcissistically, or ... it does not matter. Our freedoms are minimal and limited in this universe. Let us,
At least, the freedom to carry the image we crave. Sometimes. Only sometimes.
And the picture that I personally bear for myself, that I am like a large ocean or ocean, large and Mtrami,
Broad and deep in depth. Some of them rode her boat, roughed a little, until her land looked small and small.
She says, "Ah, I crossed the sea!" But, in fact, if you look from high altitude to the distance you have made, you will see how small a point you can barely see.
Others ride their boat and blaspheme, until the land is completely absent from sight. She says to herself: "Ah, I crossed the sea!"
But, in fact, they have not crossed a thin line. Others ride their boat, blasting long,
Without interruption, until you see from the sea its horrors and volatility, its brightness and its roots, the sun shines in it and breaks its waves,
See it raging, see it is Sagi, to the extent of staying Mtahlp received the wonders of various, and probes his neck,
And his news. So she says: "No one can know from the sea what I have known, I have exhausted the sea."
But the sea is still stretched, metamorphic, fickle, and every day is about. And so ... I take my guess,
Between four walls, in the library. Curse! I have to go back to focus ... I miss the sea.
I think that all I have read in my whole life, and since childhood, did not contribute to shaping my character,
And I love you my imagination as much as I have done so ably, I am a small child, very small,
Those sea tours that he took me to my empty, which was a fisherman,
On his small wooden fishing boat.
Did he know that when he gave me the arm of his boat's engine to drive him, he put the engine of my life in my hands?
Indeed, that child has not returned to the land as he left it. He was caught by the sea and he was still a small, very small child, hugging him, kissing him, joining him, mixing, and swallowing his spirit.


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I love freewrites, they seem to seep out straight from your heart.

I loved the flow of your writing, the depth.

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