I prefer loving than not loving.
I prefer reaching the highest top and falling down, than being in the middle of nowhere.
I prefer waiting without knowing what, or who, than falling into arms I don’t want.
Guess what: a piece is always missing, but the wire I’m treading brings to ecstasy,
where the sky is blue,
clouds are white,
head is screwed,
mistakes are blind,
by chances,
pictures are fixed,
and people mixed,
between the milky way
and the stolen paradise.