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Higher states of Meditation, where I twist and turn to go to work, like ants among flowers, up and down like sea snails on pebbles at seashore, like butterflies lost in fields of grain. The inconsistent uniformity of Malta’s roads and buildings is like a wild untamed jungle – thank God for that, otherwise I would be bored to death.
For me Meditation was getting a means of escapism, where I went to that place of peace in me to suppress the anger or fear in me, or to blind myself from the truth of conflict, killings and war of the World. Fuck that shit! This is it! This is why I am here, to feel everything, the blackness and whiteness of humanity, all the powerful emotions this world has to over. I want to be the one that goes into darkness as darkness himself, and when I feel up to it, I turn on myself as flame. To go into light as light herself, and when I get blinded I turn into void from which light can’t get through. I want to love the dark and light in you and me.

There must be something wrong with schools if they don’t allow little girls to go with flowers and butterflies painted on their white shoes. Uniformity, is death in it’s totality.

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