This post is short, short like a breath, but very dear to me. And not because it appeared in an exhibition dedicated to time during Vogue's Fashion's Night Out in Milan (or not only, 'cos the ego eagerness never sleeps, even after being sedated with a pair of Sam Edelman), but mainly because it goes deep into me.
I'd love to know your idea of time. Feel free, mi blog es tu blog.
Time is my child learning to kiss, it is my father's perfume fading away with him, it is tibetan flags dissolving in silent prayers, it is a cup of tea that was and now is no more, it is a lover telling you it feels just like the first day, it is a flower tired of blooming. Time is the people who create it, and the charming side of it all is that if there's a before there will be an after, to unwrap like a Christmas present.
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