The obscure zero, the vacant one and the man in between - 3.00€
ISBN: 978-618-5308-13-1
Every day I learn how to think by forgetting what I already know. I learn how to be happy by ignoring all that wants to make me sad. I learn how to move forward by attacking anything that wants to make me retreat. I have no right to uproot anything I haven’t planted. I have no right to erase anything I haven’t written.
Unclenching, the fist discovered a caress inside it
3.00€
Maria and Jimmy sit together but apart, facing each other, anchored as firmly as they can in their own ego and even more in their own private abyss, the abyss a person begins to form when even his loneliness decides to leave him alone. Between them sits a gaunt silence which, occasionally glancing from one to the other, doesn’t know how to begin to be silent the way they prefer.
What do you call the lie that wants to tell the truth? What do you call the hesitation that wants to dare? I can’t remember their names but I know they are the ones that dim the lights in the room every time I undo the buttons of my soul and open my shirt to reveal my chest to my authenticity.
Why do I feel that I betrayed everything I have forgotten? How I became the brilliant idiot who can answer almost anything except for what my soul wants to ask me? The same way I managed for years at the end of every evening stealing what my cleverness had already stolen from me during that day. Could this be the way loneliness ends up stealing the “1” from the uniqueness of her owner? Maybe it’s time I realize that a soul’s ugliness can be much more ambitious than her beauty.
The story of three couples who are about to discover that a marriage's happiness has many entrances but only one emergency exit. Living a life immersed in the questions of relationships that never cared to learn in what order to write their pages, they ended up embracing the part of the other's logic they understood best and the part of their own silence they understood least. The air between them is ready to take into its arms those endless hours of their lives they covered in silence all that they never found the courage to cover in words. It really wants to turn it into the song of six hearts that hand-in-hand will lay siege to the part of their truth they seek from their common future. You see, when a person is no longer able to own the truth today offers him, he convinces himself that it's time to fell in love with the myth tomorrow will eagerly supply him with.
In a duel with his self-confidence Paul is about to find out that he cannot quarrel with his future without quarreling with his favorite version of his own past as well, the one his self-confidence has deliberately forgotten in the most visible spot of his memory. You see, silence is not just the death of a word, it's also the death of a self-confidence. Maybe this is why there are no insensitive hearts, just hearts that don't find it profitable anymore to feel. Are illusions the gifts a man's ego gives to his stupidity? Most possibly because rich is the person who cannot turn on the lights in that room of his mind where his poverty permanently lives. By doing everything to forget that he has appointed himself the favorite servant of the steepest cliffs that live inside him, the ones that swallow up economy-class truths and spit out first-class ambiguities, Paul will soon discover that he is the gratuity he gives his self-awareness so she will let him live another day without asking him too many questions.
Unclenching, the fist discovered a caress inside it
3.00€
Maria and Jimmy sit together but apart, facing each other, anchored as firmly as they can in their own ego and even more in their own private abyss, the abyss a person begins to form when even his loneliness decides to leave him alone. Between them sits a gaunt silence which, occasionally glancing from one to the other, doesn’t know how to begin to be silent the way they prefer.
What do you call the lie that wants to tell the truth? What do you call the hesitation that wants to dare? I can’t remember their names but I know they are the ones that dim the lights in the room every time I undo the buttons of my soul and open my shirt to reveal my chest to my authenticity.
Why do I feel that I betrayed everything I have forgotten? How I became the brilliant idiot who can answer almost anything except for what my soul wants to ask me? The same way I managed for years at the end of every evening stealing what my cleverness had already stolen from me during that day. Could this be the way loneliness ends up stealing the “1” from the uniqueness of her owner? Maybe it’s time I realize that a soul’s ugliness can be much more ambitious than her beauty.
The story of three couples who are about to discover that a marriage's happiness has many entrances but only one emergency exit. Living a life immersed in the questions of relationships that never cared to learn in what order to write their pages, they ended up embracing the part of the other's logic they understood best and the part of their own silence they understood least. The air between them is ready to take into its arms those endless hours of their lives they covered in silence all that they never found the courage to cover in words. It really wants to turn it into the song of six hearts that hand-in-hand will lay siege to the part of their truth they seek from their common future. You see, when a person is no longer able to own the truth today offers him, he convinces himself that it's time to fell in love with the myth tomorrow will eagerly supply him with.
In a duel with his self-confidence Paul is about to find out that he cannot quarrel with his future without quarreling with his favorite version of his own past as well, the one his self-confidence has deliberately forgotten in the most visible spot of his memory. You see, silence is not just the death of a word, it's also the death of a self-confidence. Maybe this is why there are no insensitive hearts, just hearts that don't find it profitable anymore to feel. Are illusions the gifts a man's ego gives to his stupidity? Most possibly because rich is the person who cannot turn on the lights in that room of his mind where his poverty permanently lives. By doing everything to forget that he has appointed himself the favorite servant of the steepest cliffs that live inside him, the ones that swallow up economy-class truths and spit out first-class ambiguities, Paul will soon discover that he is the gratuity he gives his self-awareness so she will let him live another day without asking him too many questions.
