"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry



Originally posted on memyselfandela:

The flower that blooms in adversity is always the most rare and beautiful of all.


Photo: Adela Galasiu

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IMG_3760Photos: Adela Galasiu

Isle of Wight, UK, March 2015



Originally posted on memyselfandela:


be quiet
don’t rush me
I’m still smoking
my thoughts


10 Words, memyselfandela, 2012

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Broken Tanka

Originally posted on memyselfandela:

keep waiting for you
I have just seen your shadow
in my memory
smoke covers the face of the
last pieces of broken dreams

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Originally posted on memyselfandela:


Ashes of my past still smoking, yet I refuse to lose my innocence
Nobody will break me or teach me how to hate.
Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

No chains around my heart, no limitations on my spirit.
The only everlasting love is the one you unconditionally give
True love needs no pretexts and is never postponed.

I have loved and I will always love
I’m in love and I will always give love
At the end of the road just remember me as a burning light.

memyselfandela, 2013

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More Than Words

Originally posted on memyselfandela:

What is love? Did you ever ask yourself this question?
Many people imagine that love is an epic thing. Yes, it’s the only feeling larger than life itself. But also it’s a simple natural thing hidden in the small gestures shared every day, in the care, in the simple thoughts, in the time selflessly given to the other one without thinking of us, our work or career or needs. Time is something that we will never get back, it’s life out of our own life.
Love is in the way we make the other one feel, not a second best feeling, no concession made, no favour that should be returned. It’s the whole heart or nothing. The loved one cannot be “another”, but can only be “the one”.
So what is love after all? The trust , the forgiveness, the patience we give? Does it rely on words? But words…

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Unspoken Words

Originally posted on memyselfandela:


there’s no cigarette invented
for the depth of my thoughts
for all the unspoken words tended
towards you and your untied knots

smoke rises like the cloud
passing over my eyes
ashes falls on the same ground
on which time slowly dies

so to keep myself quiet
I always smoke two
one for my solitude
and one for you


memyselfandela, 2013

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