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A little bit of… me

I’ve recently turned two.

It’s been seven hundred and… something days since I gave a push to the snowball of this American adventure. The snowball kept rolling down. It ran over bumps, it got stuck here and there, it gathered wonders and existential debris but it kept rolling down without any stops.

Now, what can I say?

I’m watching it and cannot help thinking, “What am I going to do with it? No doubt, it’s nice and big and well structured, admired and envied, it’s the ideal snowball. But what should I do with it?”

I can store it in a cold place so I have it forever, but where can I find that much coldness? I have some detachment stored in the warehouse of my soul, but this is it. I don’t think it’s enough.

I can, as well, let it melt away, but I’m thinking it would be a waste of all those laws of physics, dynamics and the soul that contributed to putting it together.

Maybe I should just forget about it and give a push to another one.  Simpler this time… one with less airs and pretensions, one that is not so concerned  with the perfect shape of an ‘authentic’ snow ball.

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