Once upon a time there was a princess who was no longer a girl. She was a woman. And in this story there was no prince charming, fairy godmother, witch, dwarfs, enchanted apple, braids, tower, only loneliness...
She often lost herself in dreams produced by her expectations, which were confused and colorless, almost a wonder. She saw the world as a dragon wanting at every moment to destroy her completely, as if she were a log of wood from the forest after a late summer fire. But this dragon commonly dressed as an affectionate kitten, walking between her legs with a silky tail, she was deluded, she felt loved for a moment, and her heart nourished a pure hope of being happy.
The dreams generated by the princess's expectations were vain, they never really came true. And, despite knowing this unconsciously, he continued to deceive himself with the fog of confused feelings that circulated through his vision, confusing the perception of the figures that insisted on appearing and appearing and appearing and appearing... but they were just figures, so distant, impossible to be touched… a bluish mirage of light… an icy shadow of life…
And the princess kept following the path, chasing tenuous illusions, while spending time fighting to survive… she built many cups, plates, vases, ashtrays, pots, mugs, clay bowls… objects so beautiful, so perfect, so far-fetched… but she did not see.
The princess did not see and did not believe in her talent, did not consider herself worthy of praise, applause, did not accept payment, gave away her own blood for free. She made her art, manipulated clay, molded the shape of life, created other lives, hurt her fingers and saw the calluses emerging little by little. At night, she always returned tired to the castle and slept soundly. She didn't dream. After all, she was already doing it awake day after day. At dawn, all she can do is let herself be carried away by the breath that lulled her into deep rest.
The days repeated themselves for months, years, decades… and she looked back and saw a path growing bigger and bigger, a path built by clay objects. There were so many, countless… they were always preciously important to her survival, but even so, she still didn't give them any value. She suddenly found herself too wrinkled. She looked at herself in the reflection of the river and was startled by what she saw... she realized that she had lost so much time, that there was no longer any way to conquer any of the dreams of the beginning of the story. She discovered that she has become a collector of expectations…waited…waited…what to expect now?
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There is nothing else. Or is there everything. Her weary hands know only the tongue of clay… then she molds it, for the last time, and builds an immensely steep and astonishingly high stairway… and with each step farther from earth she comes, closer to heaven she comes… and the sky is so blue!
The sky has mysteries that I had never noticed before, colors, brightness, nuances, fresh air, freedom, sun, moon, stars...
Once upon a time there was a princess who was no longer a girl. She was a woman. And in this story there was no prince charming, only immensity...
