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.
Two best friends, John and Mark, are at a beach at two o’clock in the morning on the first day of their vacation, trying to find a way to unload the extra burden they carried on behalf of the person each one chose to be during the day that just ended. They have brought it to the store of their self-awareness to cash it in, hoping to find out this way what profit they gained by simultaneously transforming themselves for a few hours into something more than what their logic would like them to be and something less than what their soul could have them become. Using a different technique, each one is struggling again after a long time to remember how one can free himself from the obligation of showing the people around him something different than what he sees when he looks in the mirror his conscience brings him and sets up across from those questions which for years now he’s been afraid to ask her himself. They’ve brought with them only what’s heavier than a conscience that can no longer stand fighting with her truth and what’s lighter than an ego that doesn’t need to defeat the next minute of its owner to feel useful.
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.
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.
Two best friends, John and Mark, are at a beach at two o’clock in the morning on the first day of their vacation, trying to find a way to unload the extra burden they carried on behalf of the person each one chose to be during the day that just ended. They have brought it to the store of their self-awareness to cash it in, hoping to find out this way what profit they gained by simultaneously transforming themselves for a few hours into something more than what their logic would like them to be and something less than what their soul could have them become. Using a different technique, each one is struggling again after a long time to remember how one can free himself from the obligation of showing the people around him something different than what he sees when he looks in the mirror his conscience brings him and sets up across from those questions which for years now he’s been afraid to ask her himself. They’ve brought with them only what’s heavier than a conscience that can no longer stand fighting with her truth and what’s lighter than an ego that doesn’t need to defeat the next minute of its owner to feel useful.
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.
