the last two days of excitement to hear with all the open pores of com-passion together to get their hands on the fragile which is the intimacy they bring me here. here the need to write. I can be quiet and often silent. more often than is really necessary. I is not writing, especially when it ends up being. when it ends in silence. when I am silent. now here on the couch with a headache and a pain in the neck area that perhaps not wanting to giovanna absolutely caused me pain that tires me here before the night to absorb everything, every thought every body tension even positive ones to feel good fruitful trace. a still image. nothing more. everything I say and not say anything. because it happens to me in these pages, bright white synthetic virtual. public. I do not use the pen instead of more. and I miss her. what I miss! how to touch the soul with the right tool. here while the keyboard is a play of reality. Original not a reproduction.
0 comments:
Post a Comment