Saturday, September 7, 2013


I met a little girl once.
She was so strong and decisive. 
Her eyes were so bright and smart.
Her witty and innocent figure reminded me of a forgotten instict.
The passion for true love and meaningful life. 
The joy of fighting for your dreams and insisting against all odds. 
It was so evident. 
She was that kind of girl you just knew she was different.
Even if everything on her was so common. 
You could feel her endless potential.
Her dynamic powerful nature.
Born to be a leader and a servant at the same time.
Dedicated to her believes with no fear. 
Daring to live, to enjoy, to share, to fight. 
But at the same time, another little girl was living inside her. 
Unknown to most people. 
A sensitive, gentle and tender girl. 
Deeply emotional and introvert. 
Daring to love with all her heart and feel pain. 
She loved to speak and share all that made her happy, sad, alive.
Her world, her feelings, her visions, the colours of the sky.
But when her words had no sound she was silently hidding in her secret cave.
Time found her one night and gave her a gift.
A brush to paint and a pen to write.
So as never to feel alone. 
To speak and be heard. 
Even when noone listens.
This little girl..
I just knew all about her.

I saw her picture some days ago.
An old family album came into my hands.
I immediately recognized her.
I admired her familiar face for a while.
Her smile was still the same.
She didn’t know anything about her future yet.
I wished I could touch her, speak to her, advice her. 
All human emotions flooded over me in a moment. 
What would I say to her if I had the chance?
What would I change in her story?
Who can say things would be better if different?
Is she lucky after all?
Is she happy?
Why is she always so thirsty for passion? 
I touched softly the timeworn photo of the past.
Sweet memories jumped out of the black and white paper.
And suddenly I felt so proud of her.
Of the path she was about to cross.
Of the experiences she was going to taste. 
All part of her passionate and adorable nature. 
I suddenly knew. 
I wouldn’t dare to speak to her.
I wouldn’t like to change her destiny.
I would let her be shaped by her decisions and mistakes.
I would let her fall.
Again and again.
Until she knows.
Until she finds her way, her balance.
So as to stand tall.

I looked at the photo again. 
The little girl was looking me in the eyes. 
I saw her lips moving. 
She was trying to speak to me. 
She was trying to reveal my future. 
She was trying to warn me, to guide me, to protect me.
I smiled at her with affection. 
I now was sure. 
The little girl I once met never changed.
I closed the album. 

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