and so what I find
seems to me a gift.
I object to the violent,
but the rest is free
free and so I rest.
I like to write as if no one read it, knowing full well that is a lie, but a lie sincere, and I love some oxymorons.
I woke up in the sixteenth century, is not a lie, a fantasy suggested by the place where I stayed. So I thought I had an open mind and, therefore, that I did not need any meditative concentration to reach that state of freedom that someone confused with the "tabula rasa" they seek in the East. I am wary of the tabula razed because they can hide the gap (which is no mental pathology) or even the loss schizophrenic. I rather do a clean sweep of the images failed or false, if I find the inside, but the good ones keep me all right, then I know that change constantly.
They have done ever since my birth, my outfit are affection, the DNA of my imagination, little or much that is.
the night and sleep brings dreams are my deepest meditation, then there is another that I was awake but that, if anything, I realize after a while 'time. Someone has called unconscious image not dreaming.
So, in summary, are in the late Renaissance, and if I think of a post some time ago, means that there is consistency in me.
good sleep in a room six meters high, go out and hear the crackling of the gravel under my feet and see a light haze of blue dye in the hills in the background.
Now go back and polish the writing, but the balls lucidity, I'm not a marble floor!
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