Dreaming the impossible.

Um dia destes ainda vou presa por plágio... e o pior é começo a repetir as fontes, e isso é perigoso.

Everything around us dare us to dream the impossible. Right now I'm recalling a add campaign for a huge sports brand. Then we're surrounded by movies and songs and images of people who did it. Who acomplished the dream. Does - "Yes! We can!" - ring a bell?
The worst is when they happen "close to home". We can't help feeling a little tiny bit of happiness, followed by a quick almost "brise-like" thought of "Maybe I'm next in line"... and our hopes grow hopefully.
Just to crash loudly the very next.
Now that you found me and my mind here, now that you unawarely know, now that you can read it carefully and add 2+2... I'll tell you my last dreams.

Pela impossibilidade, talvez ajude a que deixe de ser parva. Já era hora de acordar, não? One can only hope.

Everyday I dream that I go up the stairs and that you're already there. Sitting in my bedroom eager to tell it all to me. Your hopes and fears, your secrets... what is making you feel this way. I'd listen and share, and feel you there... nothing to ask or to expect. Next thing I tuck you in just like a little boy and whisper "Good night...".

Then, on days like today, when I know you're looking at me almost understanding my words... I dream that you finally get it. Then without a word... ('cause I'm afraid of your reaction) I'd take your hand and board us on a plain and get far, far away. To all those places I dream of taking you, places where I'd tell you all of my dreams and secrets... just like and open book in your hands... places where you'd read through me and see what you have been missing.

Quem pinta os sonhos de cor-de-rosa devia experimentar viver assm. Garanto que não é bonito, nem divertido.