Shying away from the heat of the day,
we all slowly gather in the corner
Like old friends
We tell the personal lesson
that we learnt today.
Like Brownish snails
with a load of wisdom,
We hide and secretly plan,
Dreaming and building
A new life to come.
Routine and curiosity killed the cat.
After shouting questions falling in thin air
And donating uniqueness to a future not his,
The wise woman sits still and observes the decline.
A million scenarios run through his head
Some fascinating, some of no effort
And tickle his will of revenge
Knees at the chest,
Facing the first sun
While the hunting thoughts of the night
Another today starts
And with open arms
I welcome its schedules
But long for its situations of apparent impossibility
Where my mind is lit and
Rushed to a personal solution.
Another year left to the wind
To reach the land
After the mountains.
Time is a bike
That takes you and drops you off
When you feel safe and in charge.
How to, is never a question
When the idea sweeps you away.
Sunny or rainy, cold or hot,
And you see only the future
In front of you.
The imagination flies free
And experiments are quick
Telling stories that fascinate the society
And provide talks over the coffee.
The echo of clashing experiments
Fills the lab on this windy day.
The dream result
has left everybody standing speechless
And everybody with a broken heart
after days of efforts.
Impulses take over and the youngs predict a ruin
While the seniors know
Another hunt had just started.
The rigid walls of a predefined career
Are easy to aspire to
And reassuring when thinking about the future.
Walls that delimit a job,
That Somebody else has designed
Are very high and the missing view
Is sadly breathtaking.
Head up, looking straight
I don’t feel the ground anymore
And I am projected in the future.
Motor on, glasses clear,
The gear is ready
But the destination far,
Unknown and magnetic
Pulling everyday one inch more.
You step in the room
To join a discussion that lost its value
The project was planned long ago
By someone not around anymore
So no space for variation is allowed,
You wander what’s the purpose
And why to bother.
Is this research?
A chaotic world of talking people
A blank squared canvas of running squibbles
Inside your heart.
A line, a number, a scheme
Appear and leave on the paper
Waiting for polishing and consideration.
What survives the forgetful passing of time
Becomes your action plan
And your next exploration in the lab.
Years of hypotheses and confrontation
Gave you that idea
Of marvelous potential
And unmeasurable impact
For the people and the society.
You cuddle it in your mind
You question it and lay it to rest
Each day until the right moment.
If it makes sense
If it is feasible
Depends only on you
And your hands and vision.
You prove it
You make it reasonable and accepted
Against the critics and odds of statistics.
Trust your hands and step forward.
What looks abundant
Is sometimes useless
In a way you cannot perceive.
Proteins are there
But they do not behave
According to your plans
Like stubborn donkeys.
You make them, you treat them,
You feed them
Yet they rebel.
Small molecules can tame them
But the discovery is not immediate.
My monster wants to look forward
It craves for novelty and answers,
For stories well told.
I feed it articles and newspapers,
The opulence of the Internet makes him choke.
It rests when my questions are set
And written down for walking to tomorrow.
Lists lead the way
When tasks add up and the schedule is busy.
Meetings translate in lists
And agendas become tasks.
Ideas in a row
and hands catch the rhythm
Going through the list
That details the open questions of the day,
Passively swaying through the streets,
Comfortably in the grey stay of my bus,
The situation changes
And I change too.
Prepare to plan
And prepare to interact
For building you personal scientififc revolution.
The sun sets on my labbook
When streams of numbers and
Tangles of lines
Drew a new panorama
Made of lights and surprise
for my lifelong hypothesis.