Autumn Candles

 

Foto de Sixteen Miles Out en Unsplash

    The atmosphere is cozy in the room. Candles lit on the table make the flames dance with the invisible wind that enters through the window ailerons. The vanilla mixed with the pumpkin pie, the drizzle that falls on the garden lawn and the aroma of wild flowers in the vases, everything seems to conspire to create a picture of October with essence of last September. The gray sky, covered by darker brushstrokes, resonates in the distance, while the strumming of a guitar and violin fill the walls like freshly placed paintings on the nakedness of a void.

    A man's hoarse, low, slightly gritty voice comes from the stereo on the countertop. Yes, everything seems to conspire for the wind to carry the light of the candles to nothing, maybe it was someone I don't know, who knows? However, there is one truth in what we hear. When we find the right time, the right mood, the ideal climate, and the perfect song that seems to articulate well to everything, well, that's when ideas and melancholy can emerge and draw lines on paper in the form of vague words. I look into the distance, a distance that seems endless.

 

«Water towers are made for hearts and names

Friday nights are made for football games

Fallin' leaves are made for fallin' in

Front porch steps are made for goodnight kissin'

And I was made for you, yes I was made for you"

 

    Chords fill the room as translucent golden rays of sunshine stamp onto the granite of the studio. Strangely, for those who can understand me, it feels like a scene from someone's life in a lush field, with mountains in the distance splitting the horizon with their peaks. I would like to say that I live in the mountains, that I live in the middle of the forest, that life passes languidly and dimly on the river of a quiet life in the middle of pastures... That life doesn't sound so bad. However, I live in a bustling and busy part of a city that cannot be fixed on anything other than the daily life that passes without meaning. In the midst of this bustle, a soul like mine creates scenes in a small studio among candles, scents, flowers, autumn bouquets and dried eucalyptus, with the garden in the background as the only inspiration. Yes, this life doesn't seem so bad either, but they are only daydreams of someone who, like many others, likes to live despite the vagueness of life and the contrasts it has.

    Some may think that I am in a state of sadness, but no, it is only part of my thoughts and October means a season of rest, a season in which darkness comes and brings with it the renewal of the soul. The scent of vanilla continues to flood the place, while the rain falls heavily on the leaves of the rose bush. The wild iris spreads its leaves like dragonfly wings, the cape marigold is less attentive, but waits stealthily. Yes, it doesn't seem like such a bad life after all.

 

"Tiny shoes are made for tiny feet

My two arms are made for where you sleep

Sky was made for the moon and stars

You were made to steal my heart

And I was made for you, yes I was made for you"

Today's melody: