A man persecuted escapes from his country without even shoes. The Italian girl suddenly disappears while walking down the street. The minor drug dealer gets thrown into the Po 'to escape the police. The pair of crazy in love takes the first flight to Vegas.
(I thought) that we're used to all these things around .. and I realize that I have when I put in a suitcase. Approximately 60 pounds of stuff. Things to dress, things to wear makeup, things to do sparkle to my ears. Things that together make just a bunch of things.
I thought already, starting from India, on that flight that took away the quick anger of those months, the hangover of the farewell party and an iPod nano. Dynamics of a micro universe of human beings expatriates poof, so dissolved, as if they never existed. And maybe they were not been! I would have nightmares better, more healthy and constructive for the theft of energy invested to avoid repeating any mistakes in this part of the world.
Yet we are just bodies with cloth around and a fashionable cut. Similar bodies, never the same. Different in form, in substance the same shit. Grassi athletes in competition to see who has more things to put in the suitcase, plus luggage, suitcases most beautiful.
The feeling of not needing anything except that you eat and drink with scares and attracts. My personal vision of religious fasting ritual. Lying on the ground, in the heat of African in search of the cool stone floor. No bullshit now, such cases? Water. Fixed idea, unique. Water. Turning a body with nothing around, without social dynamics to wear, without the worries of the days go by, and working to delay death and making a little money to invest, educate their offspring in the best colleges, only to die of lung cancer with their children that divide the rags of your savings while he breathed his last.
Fuck all: I'm thirsty.
(I thought) that we're used to all these things around .. and I realize that I have when I put in a suitcase. Approximately 60 pounds of stuff. Things to dress, things to wear makeup, things to do sparkle to my ears. Things that together make just a bunch of things.
I thought already, starting from India, on that flight that took away the quick anger of those months, the hangover of the farewell party and an iPod nano. Dynamics of a micro universe of human beings expatriates poof, so dissolved, as if they never existed. And maybe they were not been! I would have nightmares better, more healthy and constructive for the theft of energy invested to avoid repeating any mistakes in this part of the world.
Yet we are just bodies with cloth around and a fashionable cut. Similar bodies, never the same. Different in form, in substance the same shit. Grassi athletes in competition to see who has more things to put in the suitcase, plus luggage, suitcases most beautiful.
The feeling of not needing anything except that you eat and drink with scares and attracts. My personal vision of religious fasting ritual. Lying on the ground, in the heat of African in search of the cool stone floor. No bullshit now, such cases? Water. Fixed idea, unique. Water. Turning a body with nothing around, without social dynamics to wear, without the worries of the days go by, and working to delay death and making a little money to invest, educate their offspring in the best colleges, only to die of lung cancer with their children that divide the rags of your savings while he breathed his last.
Fuck all: I'm thirsty.
0 comments:
Post a Comment