Blue, green, gem's color, and the
bronzish skin's tone that the Sun has loved, and the differential
curve that time has established by the sheaf of genes and death.
Because the fact is that the death has
sculpted the future; The death rapidly takes away the weakness that
will never be transferred to children, the shapes Cosmos do not want,
the ordination that doesn't worth.
The black angel of the nothingness is
always forging the life, and life becomes stronger.
And the death has made the landscape of
your skin as a gift for the life. And this landscape is the most
beautiful landscape of all possible. And it is much softer than any
mirage your reason might elaborate and your breath could ever design.
To be. Not to be. What I am is not the
adjective that determines a code or a very specific act. I'm just a
citizen, a primate, a person, someone as weak as you, someone who
dreams dreams like you. What I am, is only me. And my people are the
people that one day discover a dream, and that another day are not
able to find it. I belong to the group of humans, and I see myself as
one more monkey, a consciousness that thinks about the life from
inside a body full of impulses.
The greatest fullness of beauty lays in
the original Earth's landscape, especially in the times when we were
not a plague yet; and this beauty lays in the invisible, and even
greater, awareness too.
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