Untitled? Obsessively thought 360 times (every minute for 6h) since I opened up pressed memories (Never talk again about elephants). It is friday afternoon and it is getting dark inside.

I did see the leaves piling-up by the solitary oak. Never thought their dead matter was there to soften my fall.

                                              "you are still here, baby. So no complaints".

I wonder what switches off in our brain not to see the flashing alerts, the self-esteem leaking from our glands after a restless night. Why I didn't just say "STOP", "OVER";"BASTA". I guess I just lived in the dream of our crazy scapes to no men land, to our own-built imaginary framework.

                                                                                    "Twice imaginary ends up real and negative."

Did the gypsy come and say there was some kind of magic aura around us? Did the little boy winked at you and whisper "I wish..."?

I remember sitting on a bench talking politics while Granada was burning in flames. And the gypsy turning up. He did come. He didn´t ask for a cigarrette. He just read himself aloud. And his smile stayed hanging on the thick static air hours after he had left.

I just wish....I wish it had never happened. Anything. Not the slightest trace: nihilism, nothing; "NADA".
From the first electric look to the psycological thrill. The faint memory of my own self disappearing by own abandonment torments me. How could one sink slowly and not feel the coldness of the lethal wrap?


My parents went once to an art exhibition and stopped in front of a masterpiece. Was it called "the sorrow"? It had a young but drawn woman. With no flesh. No pulpy cheeks. Nothing. Just carved bones and an agonic face expression. The vivid image of the suffering soul. They looked at each other and shared a thought.

They cried.