Some time ago, someone told me that life is no fairy tale. Walking on the trail of sand corns gets me back to the land of my deeper feelings and desires, with a nourishing ground making fairy tales come true. 

Dreamalytales. Fareal tales. Sand corns over sand corns, moments over moments, symbolizing the promise of eternity. 

Even though. Things are not always as they seem, appearances are deceiving; and the force of gravity tears me down. 

I wished to receive … tip from the destiny, but it’s all right. Someone told me that life is no fairy tale and relationships aren’t either. It’s all right.  

 Standing in the middle of the milky way, looking into the event horizon with eyes wide open. Waiting for some event, not sure when it happens; waiting for a star shot, wanting to wish for something. But the moment is passing too fast and all I can look at is the dust of the stars in my hands. 

I keep on standing there waiting, waiting for something without really knowing what something is at all, so what should I wait for at all. Then, my eyes catching bright intervals in the night’s sky, the sight seems clear, 360 degrees. And again, everything seems possible, in this very moment, promising eternity. 

But someone told me, life is no fairy tale. It’s all right. Is it? 

In my fareal tale, you once meant expedition happiness for me,

the oasis in the desert I would find shelter in after a long and draining trek,

the cottage in the cold mountains I would find warmth in after a snow storm,

The imperfect dose of perfection,

The meditation gateaway in buzzle and pulsing Delhi,

The foamy crown of the surge of euphoria,

mate-awake.

Nightingales singing 24/7. 

The perfect wave in the Atlantic I always want to keep surfing on,

Eternity, infinity, opportunity. 

The sun at the end of the rising horizon I could always rely on,

The stars in the darkest nights guiding and protecting me,

The rainbow after a thunderstorm showing me that you can find colors on a rainy day, 

The chill-out area in the universoparalelo that keeps me safe,

the vegan super food that does me good,

The key for the gate that will take me further 

New horizons rising  

The cashew cream I don’t want to eat, so valuable and tasty that I just want to save it,

And so, beautiful that I never want to miss it.

Fairy tale moments in my fareal tale. Our tale. We were falling into a fairy tale and then it changed its state of aggregation. Fairy tale gone bad? 

We never know how fairy tales keep on going. Because they stop in the very moment of felizhappy. But. We did not stop. Because what we had or have, hadhave, havehad, mightwillshouldcouldwouldwant have was unstoppable. We left the felizhappy zone and widened our experience to more than felizhappy. We entered the infelizunhappy zone and are somewhat stuck, trapped, caught. Maybe we lost ourselves so deeply in infelizunhappy momentos that this is overtaking our ability and openness to listen to the nightingale. But isn’t felizhappy always somewhere somewhat there? 

Late at night, all of a sudden, lines of a felizhappy writing on a beautiful beach with spurs in the sand left. Felizhappy, like background music in a movie. If you wait a second and listen you might hear the nightingale singing softly in the background. Maybe that is part of a fareal tale. Getting to know all zones; being attentive to the sounds of the nightingale even if we almost cannot here these anymore.

But you told me life is no fairy tale. Maybe you don’t share my version about fareal tales either. What do I know? What I know is that I used to have a protagonist in my fareal tale; the protagonist belonging to this fareal tale making the story complete. The protagonist is not really in it but not really out of it. I don’t know where he is. The only thing I know is that I miss him.