Читать книгу An Ash Ceiling - Gerardo D'Orrico - Страница 8

22.12.2007

“What is possible in a world where coherence no longer exists, the body is the habitat of how you are. Where we come from, where we are, not from shortcomings we will understand what we need, but in reason.”

What we have been is already enough to live and to laugh, as 'the future is the most beautiful fruit that life can give us. The air is tasted, the tastes and voices of people are new things that light up the senses, to the good fortune of meeting again or, if we have never seen each other, without the danger of falling is not to see anymore. Power is life, without rancour. I liked to abandon perdition for the belief, that false light and that rotting stench for life, the perfume, the smell. The memory of being finished, as it was before for the celebration of what it is today. Surprising me that the future exists, seeing everything reassessed, even myself. To live happily an accomplished tomorrow, the fresh and paid air, a slight burn in the brain that allows us to breathe, without the memory of those people who fly and talk badly. Free not to be there, living is not believing in the unhealthy fantasies of the whole world. People can be medicines or even sicknesses, the internet of humans is the truth that builds us, never throw away what you have earned with experience, it always serves. What we could do is only us, existence is like an object. To believe is existence, who believes exists. A small flight of bones, of flesh, of spirit, towards an intellectual security that takes the fruit of a healed body, because of him. Breathing the reality of a single thought, it is then difficult to make it concrete, as we were in the beginning, then a persistent catastrophe that does not go away, a stain that can no longer go away, we are all born, who arrives is lost.

Salvation dwells high up, my head turns sometimes, it will be the emptiness but, try to engage in a speech not turned off, try to taste another coffee, our speeches have always been lit, unleashed. Today is not a day like any other, today is more than tomorrow but there are those who think that all the words are wrong or the presence, the heat, the two of us, all of us or just me. Who knows what has changed people's memory, where the common thought of communicating so as not to always say the same words has gone, you will certainly find it at home, all crumpled up somewhere, along with real imagination. There is a reason for all the works or thoughts, for how many of us is not normally consistent with today's act, only the good exists but, to be so it is difficult to start from now stop, another you yourself … not only complaint and persecution, as it was in the year zero seven, I think it will be the same even now where you are. Wounds that have long tormented in the distant planet Earth, have even now the visa and sighed what it is to communicate not to speak, not to write not to fill in.

There are things that you cannot do is are beautiful in their form or, others that have formed modern life, from these you can understand your own historical period, if you want in relation to the human figure, social even yourself. A strange but good theory for good, it says goes better and better and better. It's a law of the body where we went to breathe better, then better what will be, you study on purpose to understand better or, what is said for better. Of the movements of the body we cannot there to understand each other or, we lack the breath … we are not yet finished, not deciphered. It will also be true that we don't have to admit the presence of evil or other questionnaires that we will never complete, because they have been taken away to make others do them, others that won't be needed.

Logic and time are coherences, or necessarily you are without a part, there is no part, there is no part, we do not exist for the moment or, better to say, this moment does not exist. In the meantime we are here, even if we succeed without extinguishing ourselves, I remind you that to extinguish from here is to die, not to go. Who is a fake does evil, is certainly an inferior to those who suffer it, who does evil is an evil almost always, the law does not protect him, okay. We are not party favours or, dizzying falls down, we are unmade phone calls.

The world works with gasoline, how well you do good, how with the law you will feel a thousand times better, the law is all forever, it will become a necessity to remain consistent, laugh ah! ah! Just a touch to breathe, no bats, a flight of what remains, a legal act to denounce, the rest is you. So many things to do now… there's no strength left! Ease in the flow of blood into the body, it is said the presence or, the absence of a cut as fantasy or, I play other world.

You have to overcome the normal rules of understanding, art is not wrong but passed in the modern day or century in which I live. In the perseverance of not encountering the horrible sight of what you are not, what you live can also be the amount of things you say or don't say, only a darkness remains, what you expected no longer lives, only a lit flame guides our body to a new home, not to always laugh at what happened to us. Unknown the source of our private questions, it's a strange situation, living with problems that can't be solved, even stranger. Cruel is the Savior, where are you going far from my house? the intention was without verifying an act, there is always something to do … look back, you can start from where you always want, without ever drawing compensation from what you are not.

I've seen all the theoretical forms that can't take a real form and, of the real forms that don't have a theory, death never happens, you don't leave, you don't erase anything, maybe it's just past but, however it exists, it's a duty to remember, indeed it's to go where you can, and avoid the rest that you don't have to. The others are all fake, it's just that it's not really, so you insinuate that you already know it, photocopies of things that you didn't have to bring, for the rest you could see. The world is lost, the big words are false, I advise you to be alone, don't use false equals, it's alive. What we call the emptiness you can find instead in the company, who never or well use the equals, is the same crippled, as it is a false good, deep down the reality is, like the city at night, does not accept fakes. What will they do again, to get us used to doing evil! Who knows what they will say even before they stop forever, for the whole world you always have to do a lot of math, before going home, so always the turn one, two, three times.

Out of a world, more than wounded wet, good to go out, pity that there is no one outside the houses except the few. You see it's raining, it's still there are things-businesses that can't be decided, facts of the matter speak of others in your house, they do it in everyone's house! Well, it should be better, rest later, you don't know how many things to learn in school is later, not even a thing. In my opinion these lessons are the future, they live together with us or, otherwise, people who take advantage of them. We will not exist in anything, just the air that enters our bodies, nice and true but, believe me offended and prejudiced for this is too much, fresh air maybe.

Betrayed lives are the best thing to enter, where the mediocrity of the lowest people does not enter, a game to get rid of at a certain age, but hurry up and that's all it was. Freed from the game of parts, that's what you live by false fascism. You feel better if you say it's not true but, to hear it is one thing to talk about it is another, other things are all another matter. The verb is all things, every law and religion. Sometimes it can always be better to talk about other things: the end of a day, the end of a year, things you don't say, things already said. A stalemate to be reorganized, a situation that will surely come to an end.

Happy holidays. Gerardo