How many of us are still breathing? Can you really hear me? Are we still alive? We've all
Walked That extra mile, we've all made dreams come true Either by writing, painting, sculpting, writing or music making science. It's true. And In Those dreams we've tried to hold to each other's arms. I guess we’re here for some reason, although I can’t quite get it. Not yet anyway. But do we still have the time to do it?
From now on, if time makes it easy on us all, we can go on honouring our existences and dreams. Be what you write about. Be as beautiful as your paintings. Be as everlasting as your sculptures. Be as hypnotic as your songs. Be what you believe. Oh God, give us time!
Without all of us this place would be really dull and vain. Who else would be here, anyway, prepared for so much beauty, to contemplate it, to understand it, to cherish and make it blossom? It would not be a waste, but a shame. Meanwhile, maybe the time is coming when we’ll have to let go of it. Water is already reaching my neck, and maybe the time has come for us to close our eyes.
(Photography: Riga, Latvia, October 2nd, 2008 / Text: Tomar, Portugal, October 27th, 2008)
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