I´d asked my words to take form of beautiful sentences. Of course they insisted on their lovely and ever-since-lasted disorder - and insisted very angrily, you´d have seen them. They proclaimed their unambiguously declared right to represent meaningless bullshit and refered themselves to father Logos, who was the very begining of everything. Of god. Of universal big bang. Of my little bang. Of your middle size rank. Just everything. They also refered to the higher, more general meaning of it all. "Good," I´d noticed, "but who on earth is allowed to transform the general bullshit into comprehensible piece of discourse?" All problems of all civilizations (less the older and ancient ones, more the current one), as I could see, have their origin in my words´ reply: "And who on earth CARES about it? We do not, never did and never will do." The persuading discussion had gone on with me drinking tea (or coffee maybe) and words becoming more and more nihilistic. I went to bed at about three. That night I had a beautifull dream about Peagasus in the sky. The sky with three or four shinig stars, each one of different size and intensity. Then, in the morning, while I was recalling that vision, my mind glanced back to the three star Marco Effe hotel in Mestrino. End of the trip. End of June. Empty minibar, lovely balcony with rather insignificant view to the motorway and a facility of hell-knows-what purpose and of confusing design (I still haven´t decided whether I liked it or not). Morning without coffee. Morning almost abandoned in a vaste lot of another mornings, mornings less or more significant, but all MINE.
Guess what, every 24 hours the Morning is given to earth. And someone (or something) deals out the parts of it to every single human being (as well as to the rocks, plants and animals and everything). Each one what one deserves. I wish you to recieve a great portion next morning, good night and sleep (out of) well.









--
This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality.
Embrace this moment. Remember we are eternal.
all this pain is an illusion.
--
You know nothing about weeping unless you peel at least 7 buckets of onion, ya emo kidz.
--
We're the heirs to the glimmering world ~ The National
,-))
--
Hello my friend, how are you today?
--
You know nothing about weeping unless you peel at least 7 buckets of onion, ya emo kidz.
--
I'm not happy, I'm just in a good mood!
--
You know nothing about weeping unless you peel at least 7 buckets of onion, ya emo kidz.
--
This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality.
Embrace this moment. Remember we are eternal.
all this pain is an illusion.
Previous Page12345...Next Page