Beyond black and white (Marcella Boccia)
There is a world that lies beyond the edgesof black and white,where shadows stretch like hungry rivers,and the sun does not rise or fall,but hangs in the air like a question,unanswered, suspended.We are born into it,this land of unspoken truths,where the lines we draware never straight,and the colors we seekmelt into the dusk,no longer separate,but one,in the belly of the night.Here, there is no good or evil,only the space between breaths,where silence speaks louder than words,and every whisper carries a thousand histories.Here, we are both the lost and the found,the dreamer and the dream.In this world,I have learned that loveis neither light nor dark,but something that flickersbetween the two,like the flame of a candlefighting the wind.It is both fragile and eternal,a paradox wrapped in skin,and we,we are the fire.So let the world call it black or white—we who dwell in the spaces beyondknow the truth that burnsin every soul,the truth that cannot be named,but can only be felt,where the colors bleedand become one.
