I’ve written a lot of things already. some may not be able to identify themselves in those words. others say: – sometimes I can’t sleep, so I go online, and just read your posts until peacefully the rest comes to me.. your words bring me comfort. – to others it just seemed like I was describing them, and that sense of nearness, brings them joy. some say that felt like ascending to a level of transcendence, by the simple reading of it, loosing themselves in time with the essence of words. But what about Me? where’s my day? the day when I just have the sensation, the premonition of being awake, of finally being awake. and that my life is exactly as it should be. where’s my sense of fulfillness? – yes I know, I shouldn’t be here wondering you with any of this. but, I don’t know.. it’s just that nothing never seems enough.. – Catherine?! where are you?! come here! being away from you, makes me think and say nonsenses.
(escrito por rogerio m.f. e revisto por márcia c. no 5º de setembro do oitavo ano do terceiro milénio)
(escrito por rogerio m.f. e revisto por márcia c. no 5º de setembro do oitavo ano do terceiro milénio)
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