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Just a thought

I woke up this morning and I was upset. I was mad with the wind.

Actually, the wind made me happy. What really upset me was that it didn’t whisper nice thoughts to me as it used to. It was just a simple wind from somewhere not far away, a wind with no emotions or the experience meant to bring up hours of melancholy and the hope of that colored dream; a dream from which you wake up stuffed with the desire of memorable facts and admirable creation.

I felt this pleasant smell of something I could not identify so I started to sniff around the house in every corner, hoping I would find the compensation to my morning sadness.  It was just a vague smell of a story with new and old elements, with memories and projections of happenings that never happened.  It was the smell of a trip somewhere to a world of good deeds, of mistery and of the play about being a child; a world full of depth and reverberations in the rhythm of a dance, a world complicated by its own simplicity.

I stopped for a second and imagined the hearts of all the ones who are spending their present on this oval thrown, apparently negligent, somewhere out there in the universal endlessness.  How repetitive and predictable their beatings are. What message does this song of life transmits to us and what makes us so incapable of decoding it?

 We rub our hands and invent new fears with precision and art, we send messages of personal disillusion from the laptop of our soul and then we quietly wait for the result of our creation. We are surprised when x and y and z don’t equal what we expected, and when we do the math of our desires and dreams again, we are disappointed that what’s given is with aminus sign, no matter how many algorithms we would apply. We are convinced that a number with lots of digits would bring us or reduce our beings to normal, so we augment our experiences and over satisfy the glands in charge with daily pleasures until we abandon ourselves in the ’so much’ , and yet little of what we obtain.

 We entered the door that led us to a variety of sensations, an ocean of defeated borings and an infinite sea of stimulants of plastic joy. A door with promises of the new but with no map for returning to the truth, to the pleasant smell of the happenings that never happen.  

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