domingo, 30 de março de 2014

Parenthesis of the text

Who am I here? Where am I walking? I have dreams, because of them I kind know who I am and where I'm going. (They are the voice of my heart.) But actually I will never know. But actually I know every little second. (We don't have to wait to get there, arrive). I don't know what I will know in the end, I know that I'm knowing something important now: live. Sometimes it has the sound that you're living nothing, but you are. You're living always, even when you forget it for a while (you'll remember. This forgetfulness is just a time to remember.) it comes to remember that you live. That you exist.
Now, I remember. With all I have, that is all I had and all I will have. Because of my know non-knowing, I find an art. Invent. I'm inventing my way. Inside of it, there is another art: reinvent my steps. (I'm walking but it doesn't forbid me to dance sometimes or fly.) Now, I'm flying. Calm and seren, a bird that knows that has a nidus. (But never calm not find a new stick to build it each little, fast and eternal day.) 

(Going back to it can makes my-self higher.)

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