Magic

Reality is more complex than we observe, and more simple than we imagine. The truth, the fact… They seem to be blurry all the time. The ideas, creation, the knowledge. They come from magic, dressing a strong metal jacket you cannot hurt. They will make you change, at all. Just because we’re part of you, and you’re part of us, just the same thing in different ways. My ideas will embrace you, and you will embrace them, and you will embrace people, who will embrace the ideas and other people. That’s how it works.

Magic… It tends to scape from our measures, from our experiments. Only few of them, pieces of matter with brains, with the resourcefulness to analyze; can come up with the cleverness of Penelope.

There’s no reason. We don’t have something to do.

We waste our present having a memory from the past and having the thoughts of the future.

There’s nothing to do. They are doing everything. There’s nothing to know. They know everything. They will kill you, and kill me in some point at the time. They will let you know you’re not you, and we’re not us.

But don’t worry. There’s a door to scape, you can embrace the magic and fade out with it. You can appear again with a new dress. A new face. You can turn your voice into a machine gun spiting manifestos of evolution, revolution and vivification of the things you concern.

Magic.

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