There's a fine line between letting go and falling, between giving up and continue, but there are no words or rules that govern this world of balance, traction, fear of emptiness, of getting hurt. There are other worlds that do not belong to the meat, other destinations that are born and die in one day, and others who resist the time. We are hungry men, women, hungry, and there will be for a long time, until the last drop has been drunk, swallowed the last piece of bread. And there will be more tears: enough. And there will still cries out to crush these weak ears, what else can not help but listen. Until that last faint light stays on, I continue to believe that there is still the possibility, even for a man to save himself and his heart clung to the door if the spark of darkness that precedes the beginning of the day, that shines up to the last, when the new day will have forgotten the evil and will be ready to accept another day stained with blood, violence and trickery. Then maybe the world will stop for a moment, to resume his journey reverse, perverse, done. So I hope not to be there, I hope I never smell the death, no longer flesh.
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