My mind told me today that he is tired of breaking the mirrors. Nobody has to see it. Nobody has to know how fast I can remove the house of cards of this head of mine. And much less, redo it again. No, friends. That's highly confidential information. Who needs a smart card known institutional? Who need someone else to prove himself, does not deserve that adjective.
I used was the sort of people who believe that everything in life is black or white. Menudo drama. What a shame. How to ignore the nuances, the gray scale? Before I was younger. Perhaps more naive, but not more passionate. This takes on the genetic basis in the left brain, which in my case, for possession of the ball dominates the game of my life. When I was a serious person, I mean, younger-but no less passionate, and I apologize for lead, but it is very important, believed that the titles would make me a better person. Less superficial. Complete. I wanted to absorb everything. All politically correct, of course. If I had not heard the Chopin piano concertos or read process was an integral stupid. But does it really was able to feel the melody or understand what they meant the words of Kafka, or was simply out of control desire to accumulate knowledge? Why? Ah yes, I know. I was scared. Fear of being a simple person. Fear that others see me as a simple person.
I forgot the most important. Life itself is the best chair. By simple. For complex. No tags, only experiences. That is not superficial or book learning. It is printed on the soul and is what you get. It's what you get.
Audio: Fahrenheit 451 (Ivan Ferreiro)
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