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Suspended between the show of the world and the show business without distinguishing the discrepancy, I assist with lack of motivation of the slow flow: even the most accurate GPS could guide me in the right direction where drive at. It’s a euphemism defining all this “show”.

Last night I dreamed of my father who ended his earthly experience one morning two years ago, after a long illness.

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When death knocks near you, it changes the punctuation of life and, despite this seems a fight to keep away the moment of detachment, is a vain fight. It’s the only certainty and the only real fair thing. Dot space dot 

In truth, life is simple: we know we have an end point (we only don’t know when) and we should fill the empty space down to there.

I think about all those who have carried their secrets into their grave, who believed to be right even if he/she didn’t. I think about all those who, persevering in their comforts, appeal to the revisionists: In the end, they will think about all. I think about who was an hero, just for one day…or a thousand. I think about who didn’t see that day. I think about those who bring existence on a stroll, convinced it’s socially useful to be able to download it as a tax. I think about those who have run to chase and show themselves, to impose and cheat, to those who slim down their bellies, fattening their ego. Dot space dot 

I’m not sure there is eternity, but we all know there’s an after us and about that after there’s no possibility of intervention, every artifice will be useless.

As long as we travel along our way, we go from one point to another one. Nothing more and nothing less. That’s how for everyone, no one is more wonderful than his neighbor. There’s only one thing to decide on how to fill our own edge, walking barefoot on the paths of every sacred day.