The Cone of Light

We are microcosmos, particular individuals reacting to the external world and interacting with it. The majesty of otherselves individuality, of the breath of the world surrounds us before passing through. The universal spirit of the macrocosmo we live in bends his head to enter the door of our eyes while stepping into our private world, where past and present merge. It crouches to be ours forever, it squat to fit with our essence, unaware slave of our mood, free from the rigid directions of space and time.  Every human being is a vessel giving its own meaning to the external world that, from the moment it is perceived, belongs to those who can get the point without caring about the accuracy of their perception. Details won’t impress our spirit as much the atmosphere, the unraveling light, the background noises stealing the scene to the chorus. The pictures we cherish inside us entered through our eyes and it was from our peculiar looks that they stole the shape they have been immortalized in forever. Just a blurred perception shaped as what we felt crossing the cone of light. ​