The space before my eyes; the background of your forgiveness. Picturing my outer space, from your hands careless of my inner world. Do you see my eyes wide open? my catatonic posture? I do not walk…anymore. I stand my ground while your indifferent and impudent estrus makes me immortal.
The present is never presence. Once we think to have it in our grip, suddenly we already lost it. It is slimy and elusive. It is in our nature to believe that living the present it is a certain thing, but it isn't: when you pronounce the word "now", it is already gone, it's gone the same … Continue reading The “now” unfolded #Anguish in becoming#