Another spark of life between a migraine that leaves me almost dead and a Scripting nausea addressed to the mediocrity of life.
hang up with the illusion of the renewed questions receive answers.
The gypsy takes my hand and rubbed my eyes after an expression not credible to me says "you've got a lady bitter fate. Die young see here?" says, showing me my life line "up to 42 years," he says, "and then breaks. I have no doubt. "Diecimilalire only I had paid for that revelation," A better future is more expensive? "I say cynical.
She takes the piece to me ten and closes it in his hand.
" Sorry, "he says.
Rido . The death you can not pay to stay away, but to visit you ... that ... yes, from that day I got an idea of \u200b\u200ba death that is nothing if not a high class prostitute, full ... whims of a spoiled little girl, making love out of boredom and that does not look at nothing to possess her lover who chooses a strictly random order!
Just out of curiosity, to see how far I could push started to observe it and I slowly discovered that the prostitute is nothing but a cover.
Death is an angel gracious, how can that repairs the evil in the world.
So I understand, I understand why she would come to me so soon put an end to my "Sodom and Gomorrah," he was reconciled to my "Babel" and I would have brought back from my one true love.
You will not speak. Because he is the only thing of me that is still pristine and untouchable and now that I always would risk their hands soiled. After this discovery
my life has been difficult for a while '. I got questions that no one could answer, questions that remained attached to my soul, tearing hooks fishing in the mouth of a fish.
After this discovery for a moment I felt dirty and worthless, and after shining and glorious, and then started the emptiness that sometimes takes me and makes me puke: acid or words.
After my discovery I became what I am to tell stories without a jester, a knight without a horse, a masterless samurai, a flower without corolla.
So, God, are you ready? Because sometimes we live like dogs, as we devour each other without worrying about spit out the bones ... are you ready to dance with me, that slow and when I ask you reply?
not bother you for eternity, for 42 years when the body will not like you that I will to put the curtains down the ladder for me, my dear, you know.
I'll make things right, and I will give my best in this dance called life, and though I can not dance I'll move as I can and try to be nice.
But do not put silver in those pants leg of an elephant, you make the legs so dry, otherwise we seem to Laurel and Hardy.
So, God, are you ready? I do not, you know And I'm afraid this whole story. For once I would like to believe that appointment you will, but for years now, that does not answer my calls ...
Patience, instead of coming to dance with you, I will make a trip to town to look for another gypsy and this time I will give the left hand.
*** from "The Gazette - Silly God Disco "
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