UNEXPECTED MEETING WITH THE OTHER SELF

One always moves the antennae of one's brain a little; this can be a good reason for a small, wise meditation. I don't want to just recall the sad, sad idioms of happy-sad, miserable childhood, will on the leash of gravity, and obey manipulative intentions, like a tugging figure - I don't want to. Outside, a small group of attractive, wine-drinking homeless people with nicotine grins are threatening each other; the clatter of a broken beer bottle invasion on my bleeding forehead.

Among the flashback memories, I often seem to recognize cryptic faces. Its rays are divided into apparitions, every minute and moment that man has ever voluntarily forgotten. Prismatic loneliness or the cooled dark room chained to you in a flood of fire?! History is fearful - many times -, it taunts its innocent victims from top to toe.

Time always has a price, just like human lives. It is not good to bargain or gamble with the infinite Fate. Going sideways into the uncertain is not good fun at all, because you can never look back, because then you turn into a salt idol. At most, only forward, if possible. The mummified display case of forgetfulness can perhaps only be guarded by Alzheimer's cherishing cells; the comfort levels of the sealed smiles gradually crumble.

Why is it that the warranty of Existence expires so quickly, in just about six years?! It's like walking on lead signs, but in a vacuum-free space and environment. Because the deeper reality can never tolerate its eternal debtor; we could in vain knead a redemptive tomorrow out of drunken dreams. Evidence or calculated logic can be trampled under foot. The mind asks me a question on a social level: can all chess games be on our skin?!