Secrets. [let's try it in english]
I have never been good at keeping secrets. Secrets seem to linger in my lips, dancing like the bitter note of lemon in the tongue. They appear to be only waiting for the opportunity to get caught. They are such children; playing hide and seek inside me, squealing over the possibility of reaching the hot point – words. Only they can they become real. After I have said this, it is most certain that you will not want to share your secrets with me. It’s ok. I know you will not believe me now, but I have gotten used to keeping everyone else’s secrets, actually – just not mine. And thinking of the poor little secrets crouching inside, who can blame them? I mean, wouldn’t you want to become real? Who wouldn’t run like mad to get the chance to reach the light of day for the first time? Do you think you would be happy to stay inside, watching the sun spreading his arms through a tiny window? Admiring it from far, not really being allowed to feel the warmth of its rays on your skin?