a little something by the stones.... maybe it just signifies exactly what i'm used to thinking. It seems i get frightened too easily at the thought of death, having it so closely bonded to our frailty, to what we believe to be more than the ever depressing idea of nothing more than phenomenic existence. Sometimes i just find myself staring at nothing, just mimicking deep thinking, hard contiousnesssss --something about the sssssss is just to much to avoid-- and then, i wake up and ask myself: "where was i" when the real question should be: "was i anywhere at all?" There are so many things that escape my ability for understanding, for predicting, for explaining, for seeing; i may be inevitably blind, maybe even willingly blind, pleasantly blind. Aren't we all?, do we not wish to be numbed? I have believed for a very long time now that we grow hesitant over our status of animated creatures, because we find ourselves too deeply compromised, our life has become a debt, a sentence... we are not free to live unless we feel death breathing on the back of our heads. That may lead us to thinking that we are not really alive unless we are constantly killing small amounts of ourselves, it may become a death sentence passed by the inertial mode
we have been brought up in. As i usually do, i am speaking for those for whom i have no say, i may be interfering, disrupting, distorting... but this emptynessss behind my eyes is all i am and all there seems to be, a great nothing for which i am not responsible; it surely is drag getting old.