Transformer

Transformer

A boy, A Cube. A love story.
How many languages do we speak in this world? Languages that we need to speak to communicate, to be understood what we want, to know how to say thank you when it needed? A soldier. An adult that should know the information, the coordination where to go. A child that we find so beautiful, we are proud of, to be the parent to a beautiful child that is our and we are protecting from all harm that is and will be surrounded with. We look around and see what other parents does the same thing that we do. It need shout and communication from us adult to adult to protect them. To fight for them from all harm.

A boy- that is telling us what his parents told him about the history of his great grandfather. A dream that he believes could be a saviour to his present. And the adult does not hear him. The boy, when he knows what he wants, does know how to formulate what he needs to have what he want.

The boy gets what he wants. But the boy does not choose. The boy got choosen by the cube.

That is what I believe. The child choose its parents dipending on what he needs to have in its life. The parents that will guide and teach that it needs to be have in its back-pack to be where it needed to be.

A parents job is to listen to the child. To respect. To accept. The pass is in the pass. We have to accept it and respect that it has transformed us to whom we are today. We learn something from it, we do not forget but we do not bring it along to our present.

The child has always a mojo, a cube, a belief. Its carrot to take care of. And it is us, adults, parents that the child has choosen to push it for its belief.

Meanwhile the adult is keeping on making the word safe for the child to live on, the child is busy on preparing the parents to be his. Its guides, unconsionsless, hear that all the time, the information that is our list what to do. Not knowing why we are doing what we are doing.

The first inpression, the body, the hot body to be notice. And it is not us that is doing that... it is our future child that is ruling. Playing the music to dance for us as parent to enjoy the moment and create the child.

But what the adults are doing is to avoid the thorn on the roses branches while we are dancing on its petals because it can hurt us. They are the brakes. They are the ones that makes us uncontrolled. They are the mole.

Ones in my dreams I asked why are the houses looked so funny. A voice told me that it is not the house that looked funny, it is my way of looking at the house that is funny. Meaning, What you see is not what it really is.

A mother is the sensitive ones, that feels, while the father is acting to make things happens what the mother feels. In other world, the mother is working inside the house to make it welcoming while the father is the one that is making the house actually welcoming.

A human spices is weak and immature. We do what we have been told to do. We take orders. We are soldiers to protect what we believe in: to find a branch that is strong enough to build our nest and make sure it is far away from harm. We fight because we believe on what we are doing: to protect our children to protect their reason on why they are born. To protect the cube to have the future for their children.