These days, giving a snooping in the college library - spend time picking books on the shelves is almost as fun as read them - I came across a copy of "The Little Prince" and then decided that the time had come for, first read it.
Reading gave me a deeper understanding and contextualized magical passages like "You become responsible forever for what you have tamed"; "If you come, for example, at four in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy" and "The essential is invisible to the eye", which already were familiar to me for years and which always quite liked.
But it was the following passage, which was not yet to my knowledge, that most intrigued me and invited me to reflect: "You see, far away, the wheat fields? I do not eat bread. Wheat for me is worthless. wheat fields do not remind me of anything. And that's sad! But you have golden hair. Then it will be wonderful when you have tamed me. The wheat, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I love the wind in the wheat ... "
Wheat that previously was just a grassy for the fox, will never be seen with the same eyes: his gold, which is the same hair of him that captivated the impregnate of meaning; will that evokes feelings of love, because it will be also - and always- the Little Prince.
Wheat Golden is in the smells: once went to greet a stranger, and to hug him, he quickly found that I wore the same perfume his girlfriend. "Wow, the Kandra's here," he said. Is the smell of chlorine that brings me the afternoons of my childhood that wilted in the pool. In the smell of gasoline that goes through my nostrils and instantly transports me to the long car trips I've done with my parents.
Wheat Golden is in sounds: you can not even really like a particular song, but, from the moment it is - by chance or not - soundtrack of moments, or even phases of his life note how your body physically react to it in many different ways ..
Wheat Golden is in the bank of red that witnessed our first kiss; yellow house that sheltered our childhood; the blue of the hospital walls that watched over his father's illness.
Wheat Golden is in everything, by referring - albeit unconsciously - something that is ours, that touches us, no longer just object, sound, smell or color and turns materialization of what is invisible.
Our life story will leave marks and changing the way we mean everything that surrounds us, and this is one of the nicest price we pay for being alive and let captivate us; It is what makes us able to love the wind noises in wheat.