Sometimes it's hard ...

Sometimes it's hard. Looking for a good angle, trying a new approach and... nothing! For each trial, a new failure. Write and rewrite at the rhythm of my fingers. Knowing that when something is writen, your mind says to delete it. Push the button and despair. The problem is that there is so much to say.

Goa is full of stimuli. You do not have time to watch everything that your body notices. Whether it's fresh breeze, the stressfull life of insects, the small chaotic traffic, everything moves and touches you. Goa seems a little India with Portuguese flavor. Here everything is calmer that it must be elsewhere in the country. I already begin to notice small details that confirm you are in India. The cows walk around the road and at the beach. The traffic already has some chaos. And the heads wave to confirm your request. The Portuguese, heard here and there, ensures that you are still in Goa.

But it is impossible to find an angle to transmit all this tropical flora, all the fauna that jumps here and there or all the calm rhythm that you end up feeling. Here there is time for everything. And for a European - even though Portuguese - this is a bit confusing. Sometimes you think they don't understand, other you bet they do understand but don't care. In any case, only with time you receive confirmation. In those minutes you can only wait. Something that you quickly get used.

In the midst of this landscape, the sound of gentle waves, you forget the stress of life. Beyond the palm trees there can be a world, but you don't want to know it. The sea hypnotized you and the music, played by the Indian guitar, accompanies the state in which you plunged ...