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Hundreds degrees in New York!

Hundreds degrees in New York, the air is thick as pea soup.
People is wearily walking, I can feel their thoughts, as bricks sinking in a pond.
Too hot to dream, no ripples in the surface, I see ghosts walking around, wondering about the new car, the loan, the mortgage or the new boss which is a pain in the ass, a cell-phone is ringing, the man on the other side of the street pick up his phone, is angry, jumpy, is talking with someone, could be anyone, daughter, mother, wife or a friend.
“GOT TO GO, YAP, I LL TALK YOU LATER” he swears something like FUCK U..he hang up the phone nervously, I wonder, what if the voice on the other side of the receiver will no longer exist for some stupid reason like a heart attack?
How would he feel if the voice would trade fatherland for paradise, just a few minutes after the phone call?
I would give my legs away to have my little daughter back with me.
I would be happy sleeping under a bridge, keeping her in my arms, because, I would do anything it takes to make her happy, and she knows how much I love her.
The most precious thing we have in this universe is our love, our heart beating for someone else, and we don’t know it till we loose the battle.
Walking in the battlefield right after the hurricane change our point of view, but, is it worth to feel such a pain?
Nothing matters more then “love”.
My life without her smile is nothing, sunset is an angel whipping the surface of the ocean and Sun is a demon hitting my skin, the silent night is a snow-owl ready to bite my flesh, no rest for such sour sorrow, just the minutes slowly falling in the dust.
My love for her was keeping me alive; my life was sparkling with her around, my dreams were real, all my dreams were no longer mine but our dreams with her nearby me, what is left now, dust?

I bought a little puffy whale, white and gray, she couldn’t come with me whales-watching on the ocean, out there in Massachusetts, so I will leave the gift I bought, as I used to do when she was alive, but this time will nolonger be on her bad, but on her tomb, I will write her a postcard and I will mail it to paradise, no matter where she will be, my deep love will make her happy.
I will post this story on redbubble, just in case she won’t receive my gift and my postcard, so if she is still fooling around in internet she will be happy reading it, then I will write a song and I will sing it loudly in the night, no matter if the sky will be dark and cloudy or the rain heavily will fall down on heart, because my song will make her happy, this is my mission, this is my duty, this is my life now, no matter where you are, Lene, your Dad will make you happy again.

Hundreds degrees in New York!

mario farinato

Challex, France

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 2

Artist's Description

I just think i need to make her happy again, i don’t know which one of iuse is missing the other, me missing her, her missing me, the only thought i have right now, is “i hope she is happy”

Artwork Comments

  • Karen  Helgesen
  • mario farinato
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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