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One

A deep breath in chasing away the bad thoughts.

The next moment is waiting to leave for an uncertain border to please old and new, a more recent full vacuum and that you remember so well.

Let me be clear from the outset not to mislead, I have no very clear about what I write, or if he really write the true purpose of these lines.

Basically, I wrote to write. In that blog, the OTHER blog, I think it's enough to know that there was and still is there, dusty and smelly closed somewhere in the network. Write

I have already written and then I stopped.

Why?

Better to say "when": when the wish that the writing was more of a simple passion, it became my profession, it became a matter of life or death. Mica tell a joke, you know? Really: life or death. And there were no alternatives, either that or nothing. Soon you realize that nothing is surprisingly faster than any dream, more agile to slip into the folds of everyday life where the risk of a limp desires is very high. If you find a moment is found.

So I stopped, that make pleasant memories, those carefree hours stolen from sleep, had assumed the contours of a dead end.

Yesterday I opened this space, and should understand why and what's so different from the other day.

today and yes, quietly, avoid questions and go.

Forgive contrasts, but I guess these pages like a game of loneliness and connection, music and silence, readings and long-throw line, vanity and caution.

of complexity and order.

A hospital for broken thoughts.

For brevity let us call blog.