How to gallop around the world feel all the flavors, smells and emotions, but without drowning or filled in their clutches? How many clutches created since that wonderful? that inspired his brushes and minds and clouded defining a path for others.
Like when we want to flood of emotion to throw it away, but no, we become it! the love, love that melancholy, which bleeds and complains, that sort of sadomasochism. We love to embody a role, and from there to express, we are always be a role, we love to have an identity that defines us and stigmatization.
Melancholy is one of the most pleasurable emotions that we possess, because it fills the void, that something we need if we were empty before we become empty but with a sense. And we began to dream, you begin to look to the sky, and that something within us begins to want, have, belong, wanting to weep, anxious, victory! Power, or a subject in search of love and protection, as we love it.
But if we are always taking a role that gratifies us? from where you are talking about? And where is that since these reflections can be born? Is there a kind of scientific role that whatever you understand? But even more strange is that desire or rather "errors" in the system built congratulations, which suddenly does not fill us and we become aware that it is. And because we are girls garments can not reuse them because we are no longer in tune with us, and we know that they are artificial, that breath of naturalness that gives us the sweetness or bitterness of the world which syringe to inject live, what purpose will soon be showing us this stark reality? Why our stomach is tight, imagine living in a world without seduction and abhorrence. How to stop being that joyous being who wanders smelling flowers and escape from the caves of the forest. What is the passion that moves us later? Como existe la poesía si no es desde las víseras? ¿Existe una poesía objetiva? O es que nunca se acaban estos llamativos olores y siempre los estamos soñando, y que nos motivan a construir y destruir, a forjar nuestro destino basados en el deseo, ese deseo que muy pocas veces se sacia y construye y destruye, va y viene es, se deja ser y se reprime, para luego querer cambiar. Inexplicables y desconocidos son los caminos del los hombres, alguna vez escuche, y también así eso que los hace escogerlos.
Como el motivo que me lleva a escribir esto, aparte de una posible intención de maravillar por mi reflexión, ¿intento llegar a la verdad? Es acaso una mezcla insoluble entre lo intrínsicamente necesario and satisfy the desire for recognition. What is it who build and nurture all of these delights? What truths and pleasures we allowed?
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