...And as we like to say, the time is coming; always "the time is coming", bold as love, magical like a Spanish castle magic, coming anyways, to show in futurition the things that "shall be", to show me the wars I survived, and how we learn to forget, and to re-remember.
We are basically the same, always, we turn and turn in circles, we avoid ourselves, our selves, but deep inside we are the same, in the end, and essentially.
Sometimes I feel really sad, I'd like to re-capture that emotion, exactly that feel, that vein.
Maybe we just have to go on, hard like iron statues, forgetting about everything, about every thing.
Especially pitiful is when what we forget, it's something that essentially we love, something genuine.
Maybe our road has to be paved with all these oblivions, like a deaf, dumb street: not really the one we want to walk, the life, our mind vs. our feel...ain't hard to realize that our feel always loses.
That our life always loses.
