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Time to smell the flowers

There is a picture on the wall, but I´m not sure it´s a real painting. It could be a mirror. It shows a narrow place with no windows, one painting on the right side with a quiet but colorful landscape. And then there is an open door. A door that will probably take you out of the sameness of the days. A door that was perhaps used by a tired soul to scape a world of frustration, someone that used to be buried under a safe ceiling, hidden by a comfy red armchair and cousy wall papers.
There is a key on the side coffee table. Beneath the key lays a piece of paper – maybe a message? a farewell note? or even just a gentle tissue avoiding scratches on the wooden furniture.
The flowers are silent as the cat. They both mind their own business while I wonder, frenetically, about things I don´t understand, stuff I can´t explain, feelings I can´t express.

Never mind the nonsense. Take the time to smell the flowers if you can. Run away, if you get the chance. I know I did.

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Thank you Mauro, Carlos, Alba, Edson and all of my  friends for the scent of flowers and the opportunity to make a living while I continue to persue my dreams!

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How can something that gives such pleasure and joy be called “work”? I´m so blessed!

WHO CARES?

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There is this overwheming feeling of having to be able to do everything, you know? You must be strong, take care of the family, the food, the cleaning, the house, the world… Sometimes it just feels like escaping it all. Travelling endlessly into an imaginary fun world where only me, my son, my colors and all the nice people exist. Shutting my eyes to living and giving myself away to painting. Sometimes, reality feels like the real escape from being happy. So be it. Who cares?