A dream haunts me. A man looks at me. A second touches me. A sigh comes over me. Always some thing or another, always something, never nothing.
I hate that I have must individuality. How I would not be, and just feel. And do you remember me back sand, lost moments, I feel that I lose.
I flip through two or three times, still do not understand. I do it again, I think I understand. History proves that no, I do not understand anything, and I like it. I rejoice in the uncertainty of human chronology, I squirm as well.
How much desire do not set my sights on the stories of others, but live them. Be in them, in you again. Do not forget I'm afraid it's just that I'd like to hear your story from the inside. I like both.
I want to go to the countryside, breath work, sweat dignity than to eat, which would love to death. Running until your knees tremble, and go harder. Living without judging anyone or anything, without fear, not mourn.
The more I look the less I believe. There is no image that defines everything, and all of them define me. Wanting. I miss the statements in the hope that I never achieved.
No more suffering of my brothers, we need not live like this. Why some are determined to build using the search despite the other? let us not drag on the alacantarilla of false happiness, shared accommodation, pollution of the soul and the planet. They do not realize, or maybe if I do not care for now.
I'll find a way.
P.D. Déjame amarte, déjame amarme
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