Poetry happens even in the middle of the street.

Taipei is being revealing; more correctly, the frame of the revelation.
My day has been full of warmth since I opened my eyes until I've closed them.
I felt magic in the 26 degrees this city gifted me , in cleaning this big empty and pure house, in the soft blow of the air surrounding my figure.
I put my hot green tea in my flask and my day took the right speed.
I have already had in mind which kind of cloth would have touched my skin today.
I wanted comfort and elegance; like a random painter I put some color on my eyes, and that's where magic intensified.
The music coming from my phone never abandoned this narration and somehow it was the load-bearing of my day.
I just felt so much purity in it, as something that happened to you without any expectations, and suddenly you are endlessly grateful and you want to have an active role in it.
Every day, I am trying to portray the new page of my narration, and today I felt honey helping me to write smoother.
Often we have this unbearable pressure of having the lead.
Today I felt like a bright energy decided to bring me trusting her.
So, this was it, trusting something bigger, and renouncing for once your monsters.
I (almost) ended my day walking on the street with a Merlot's bottle in my hand as a present for a friend and again, life surprised me: a little girl holding with fierce some sparklers , and masterly moving them in the air with circle's movements.
I found it of an extreme magic; letting the energy pass through you, in order to be able to draw your story.
Poetry happens even in the middle of the street.