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Figura da rua

       Sublime do apagão. Destoando de meus passos pouco vagarosos em contida frenesi dos resquícios da civilização que desordenavam meu equilíbrio de mente a uma consciência desmedida de palavras, permanecia altivo em sua postura ao olhar impassível, munido de todas as contradições que me apontavam como intruso de seu mundo. Apenas pude levar comigo os vultos desta figura plurívoca que habita as incertezas suburbanas.   

07/10/2025

         Same landscape , same moment, same conclusion? probably not. There are situations which just seems like they have to keep coming back, although I am less unsure now. I don't know how many times i have written to myself to make it, or at least force it, into the past, strangling any emotions beyond some sense of rationale.

    Still exists though, as unclear as it has ever been and as unsolvable as ever in my own little world. A pathetic world for this scenario, but how could I judge myself while not considering how I am? There is no grief that pertains anymore, no guilt, no more things to learn or that I wish to learn.

    Could have been a melodrama, superficially should never had, but honestly I really do not care about changing how it is, but I do care on a repeating dial. Less noisy, but still noticeable, although less frightening, it is, and it bothers me that it is.

    Nevertheless, its been livable enough. Neither Aristotle nor Freud would go as deep into this tint of a play, which bothers me enough to be remarkable, not as much to sadden me still. Maybe God could make the next species of humans less desiring to love, oh what a shame :/

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