Histories are perennial, however changeable of energy. Perpetual, but not static. They bring or they leave to see the moment of count who them, but for that they only know to listen to with the heart the heart of who account. Who tells can say a thing and who listening can receive another one, each one has its energy and feeling to give and to receive. Histories confess what the eyes of the soul capsize and had felt of more important and marcante that being that lived such fact.
They are only individual, never lives the same thing two times, nor equal to nobody. For equal than it can seem, never will be. only is in the essence and the narrative. Today they can be counted of a form and tomorrow of another one, but they will continue same histories. The feelings they change and the way to also feel proper histories. When she is child, the innocence can make to see lesser or bigger histories of what they are.
But to the measure that if grows the weights on the lived facts can move, and same histories to start to be counted of another form. Not for being different, but why it is felt different. The pain of yesterday, can more not ache today, what it makes today happy can more not make tomorrow. thus the life goes living and counting its histories mounted to its long one with the narrative of the moment of the story. What it is counted today alone belongs to today, therefore today is today and never it will be yesterday or tomorrow. Of morning the alone one will be if tomorrow disclosing and of yesterday already was and more it will not come back.