Days In The Blackberries Field
We all wear masks, as if we were at some carnival.
We try so hard to fit in these roles that we even begin to believe in them by ourselves.
But what happens behind the locked door?
When we stand in front of the mirror and see our own faces…
What do we see?
Who is the one who looks?
And whom does he see?
Do his eyes search for the beauty?
Is that beauty visible?
Is he an adult man, smiling at the boy in the mirror?
Or, maybe he is a young guy staring in a wrinkled face of the old man?
Does his mind longingly look at the chained spirit which is screaming for a liberation?
Or maybe he is just a free soul, which is flying like a leaf on the wind?
What does he fear of?
Are those fears worthy?