I can hardly remember a remarkable day; not beacause the lack of one (who can ever say that!), but the number of experiences that remains remarkables in my mind is not just one (I'm having second thoughts right now, because it's a really tricky question). Possessing just a moment, a day, a second of joy would be terribly difficult to me. Maybe the best thing to do would be take some reminiscences and, from there, define a remarkable feeling. I'm gonna change the question "What your remarkable day is" to "What your remarkable feelings are" - if I may be allowed to.
I understand, I feel a nameless, indescribable situation as a state that gives you the sense of uprooting, a sense that untie you, not of life, but of the "common" development of time, and turns the way of living in a light breeze.
I think I live that situation when I take long walks through the city; when I hear a melody that involves my imagination and gives me a place to dream, a second home, a warmer one; when I hear the voice that I love the most (the best music for my ears), or anything that gives me the keys of an infinity of new doors to open. And that mixture of feelings (these are just a few of a bunch of indescribable feelings), can give me the sense of outsider, of witness of the "hapennings".
For example: You're walking by the downtown, is the early autumn, the leaves are moist in the ground (making, the lifeless grey of the cobblestones mixed with the sprightly crimson of the leafs, a perfect picture), and you can smell the frosty and wet soil; the faces are pale because of the cold wind, people are buried in their coats as if they were keeping a big secret under their clothes; and you're just a walking shadow upstream, giving life to this picture without them knowing- they're just actors on this comedy- ; the sun becomes an orphan boat in the vast cloudy ocean, and its rays serves only for bathing the heads out of ideas.
At the backgrownd of your mind sounds the last melody that incubates its dance in it, and the gestures of the time are more gracefuls. The things comes alive at your wise now.
For example: You're walking by the downtown, is the early autumn, the leaves are moist in the ground (making, the lifeless grey of the cobblestones mixed with the sprightly crimson of the leafs, a perfect picture), and you can smell the frosty and wet soil; the faces are pale because of the cold wind, people are buried in their coats as if they were keeping a big secret under their clothes; and you're just a walking shadow upstream, giving life to this picture without them knowing- they're just actors on this comedy- ; the sun becomes an orphan boat in the vast cloudy ocean, and its rays serves only for bathing the heads out of ideas.
At the backgrownd of your mind sounds the last melody that incubates its dance in it, and the gestures of the time are more gracefuls. The things comes alive at your wise now.
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