Flying Away

Nobody remember my name, maybe because I have never been in this place. It´s strange walking on the street, going out, and not been recognized. Sometimes I ask: what am I doing here? Why changing my life? But sometimes is nothing, but sometimes is too much.

When I was a child my dream was flying away. I wish I ware a bird, or a butterfly, I used to say.

Sometimes... how long is sometimes? Maybe.. how sure is maybe?

Your face reminds me of a friend. Yes! You look like that person! But you don´t know my name and you don´t have idea what I´m talking about. I´m not your friend, I jut look like somebody. I have never been here, I´m not part of this place.

It´s different knowing another life, it´s like forgetting everything that you lived before. What is my place? Do I have my place? Sometimes you´ll change, sometimes the world will change, sometimes you´ll be changed by the world.

Nobody remembers my face, for years I have been far away; how could they recognize me? They? Who are they? It´s strange walking on the street and not seeing any familiar soul. Have they left me or have I left them behind?

How long is a lifetime? When did I leave this place? When did I arrive here? Maybe yesterday, maybe a long time ago. How sure is maybe? One day we´ll know... or not.