night begins to take and just close the blinds and turn on the light in the room. The faint glimmer of sunshine that has crept home today has managed to maintain a tolerable temperature and is not now necessary to start heating. The letters have started off a little intemperate, but seems to be accommodating to the role and to meet comfortable. all afternoon I've been hearing the same song, sometimes jumping to another, but always returning to it as if for the first time I heard, feeling a sanctuary, and leaving everything else second term. The song melts my gear and start to really work after a long season of work. Sometimes a song or a concert serve to rescue the flight and grab the feet back to earth. And this is where I find a poem that speaks of the need to lose. That would be too risky to lose something every day, and challenges us, saying that losing is an art. Who showed me my weakness known to hold on to mine and my nostalgia necessary. Anyway, I've noticed that sometimes live in a great paradox. On the one hand is the tear that lives to lose an object (or deciding coldly that we will get rid of it because it is useful to us) and sometimes, even if only one remained a moment, it seems absurd that a unequivocal part of our lives (for example, the entry of the concert of which I speak, that only refers to the artist who went to see, and the main picture is occupied by the savings bank that sponsored it) and on the other hand, sometimes intermixed with the above is the active current of things that I lose every day because my mind is not at all focused on them, because ultimately I think, I do not care. And yes, I do not care, until the need to seek, and almost always find, like earrings or the bonus meter, stealing time that should be using in strode down the stairs at home.
poetry addresses many of these nuances. Things, by the very existence, says the poet, are printed with the germ of the loss. To consciously know that disappear several times in my life, because my mind is aware of what really matters, which tend to be non-material things, and come and go again. The theme changes when we decide we do not want to see them. These are things we did in a past time, will no longer, and may seem ridiculous, why it costs you to get rid of an old glass frosted glass? because it embodies a time that we could not hold and is already gone. This is where I think it puts the poet, Elizabeth Bishop, who looks directly at the nostalgia and tells him to leave the limelight, and us, is not so horrible to lose a place where we have been, a beloved object, a name .. it is obviously something we do every day, but we would be able to grab some scissors and cut some wires from our past? necessary?
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