"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

200 words

Somewhere Around Nothing

I’ll write you about the moments when you face life
Like a boxer ready to be hit again straight in the face
Wearing scary tattoos on every inch of his chest
But nothing but fears inside it.

I’ll paint you all you can’t stand
Like not being able to taste life freely
But only in small sips given in constrained limited relationships
Humble ratio –  shots versus an endless thirst.

I’ll sing you about all that makes you feel bad
Stirring this rain that is endlessly pouring over your soul
Building your need to escape from this restraint universe
In ephemeral ramshackled paralell castles of sand and words.

I’ll strew you all the times
When you’re so busy dreaming that you miss your own life
Between getting drunk and two advertisements that repeat themselves
Making it all feel like an endless depressing Sunday evening.

I’ll demolish all the strength you’ve never had
But that you dream to steal from every possible corner of street
And all the moments when dwarf souls rejoice
In laughing of your deepest misery.

I’ll scatter life in sunless moments
Hopeless shelterless bloody moments ,without self esteem or stamina
And if in between you might glimpse love,
It will be not in the light, but in the deepest hell of existance.


memyselfandela, June 2013

April – Parkinson’s Awareness Month

Dear friends,

April is Parkinson’s Awareness Month.

Parkinson's awareness month
There’s a life lesson that has truly amazed me here on WP, it is the story of Benjamin Michael Prewitt, gifted painter and fantastic father and soul who was diagnosed not long ago with Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease, a disease that is not confined to older people and can affect people of any age.

You will have seen some of his work here on my blog. Yet not enough, so I invite you to  browse the galleries on his site. You won’t be disappointed.

As with many degenerative diseases, the ramifications and extent of the effects of PD are not generally known or understood until they touch our own lives or the lives of those whom we love.

Please take a moment to read Benjamin’s post and see his amazing work. He is an unique soul who turns his sorrow and pain into passion offered to this world. He offers his vision, feelings, paint, music, words, heart and soul so that others understand what Parkinson’s is. I bow in respect for his amazing sacrifice, keep fighting Benjamin!!!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Thank you for reading dear friends.

Much love to you all,


Sleepless Nights

As I find myself with no trace of sleep in the middle of the night I can hear my thoughts passing through my mind.
I have not listened to this fantastic song in a very long time. It tells me many stories, it has many tastes and colors in my mind and soul. It makes me remember certain days, sensations long forgotten, thoughts long put aside get back to me in the same manner like Proust was revealed past memories while eating tea soaked cake. I am searching for the lost time as well, and this essence of the past invades me as well very often as I try to put together missing pieces of this puzzle I call life.
The mechanism of the memory is fascinating. It’s incredible for me how certain things have remained imprinted deep in my mind, while others seem to have vanished forever. Only that sometimes, from long forgotten dusty corners of my mind that I even forget that exist, images, memories and moments rise again. And this takes me back in time and most often makes me happy.
May your night be good, may your dreams be sweet and your wishes come true.


200 words, memyselfandela, 2013



the night crystallizes truths
despite of all the imperfections
in the crevasses of my broken soul
left at the end of the day with
raw images of degradation and fragments
from fights of silent dragons and demons,
of humans rifted in the damnation to feel only nothingness
because they have nothing holy in their soul,
though they deserve angel shapes.

truly pure love is the one
that gives itself whole, without  judgement,
with no hope of reward
with complete oblivion of all fruits and all joy,
of all gratification, of all praise and ego.
the one that does not build temples for
his self satisfaction, his wisdom or nobleness.
this love is the condescendent eye
on all creature, the rose that blooms in the winter frost.

there’s no way above this nightmare
that is at the same time lesson and life
but to give love to all, without any expectation.
no angels walk on this ground,
they must leave us so we can make our own choices.
there’s no oneness but the one
we freely give to stranger and foe.
there’s no wholeness but love,
and if you don’t have it, give it
and if you can’t imagine it, create it.


200 words, memyselfandela, 2013

for the sake of words


Every day countless amateur writers do their best to express their reality, fantasies, beauty, pain, joy, love, hope and dreams, using words in various ways, some with more skill than others, but nevertheless WE ALL WRITE. Does it matter how much time it takes to put down our thoughts? Does it matter how many words we use? In the end all that matters is the feeling left after reading our story… And the story of a life is like a staircase, a spiral made out of small pieces layed every day, just like a talented painter taking thousands of hours for the hundreds of colours and textures that conceive a work of art…
Strangers will come inside our space, read, watch, think and judge us, calling us talented, cheap, silly, special or unique. The way they interact with us is a reflection of their past life, experience, level of culture, personality… Some will understand, some will despise, some will copy, some will smile, some will cry…
So you, that read this words of mine:
Write something awesome every day or once in a year, but keep writing. Believe in yourself. Be true to your heart and mind.



200 words

memyselfandela, 2012

what if

What if we could choose a place to watch everything from?
Well, the truth is we can always choose where to see things from. We can also tell ourselves what we want to believe at any given time.
We usually choose what is more suitable or comfortable to feed whatever we want to feed: our mind, soul, body, passions, fantasies, reality, objectivness, sensibility, fears…
But often, far too often we are puppets of our ego, for the ego, our best friend and worst enemy, it gives us discernment from going insane to living in this orderly chaos. Loving ourselves is what keeps us together, keeps us from crushing, pushes us forward in life, it empowers us to focus on clear objectives and makes us believe in of our own value, regardless of any interactions we might have with with the outer world…
Egoism – |ˈēgōˌizəm|…
An ethical theory that treats self-interest as the foundation of morality… Justified by the world we live in, by our experiences, by our cravings and needs…
They say there’s no pretending, we should think only of ourselves , of us and what makes us happy… for if we don’t we’re suffering…
200 words
memyselfandela, 2012


“See, look at them, he’s a friend of mine. She’s beautiful, rich, she supports him, she would make his every fantasy come true. Now that is a true woman.”

As he was pronouncing the words the time stopped for her. Suddenly she was holding the hand of a stranger.

As she took away her hand from his hand it felt like a thousand veils falling from her eyes.

Oh, how she loved him… But he was not the same man anymore. It felt as if the sweet lover she used to know had vanished from the face of Earth.

Struggling to keep the tears behind her eyes and not to burst she stopped and made a first step away from him.

“What’s wrong? Another scene? You and your scenes, I’m sick and tired of your reactions!”

Eyes full of grief she turned away and left him in the middle of the street.

Rain kept falling from the sky as if the sky itself would have mourned for her soul.

She stopped in front of the newspapers booth. On the front page a black and white picture of a smiling woman :

 “You are perfect and you need noone to prove it!”


200 words

memyselfandela, 2012