I'm so tired of having the brain almost shut down. What was the last month all the time, yes, that feeling of indescribable bubble white and cloudy ... which is now gone, gone, gone!
I'm tired, and then, but satisfied. Tired of work, not inertia. It 's a tiredness positive, in fact. Even if I miss a bit 'words.
I will write profound things, but it remains only for the trivial. There is not room for digression artistic end in itself, so I'm here because I'm mulling over the original in all this easy to line up the words (meta-reflection). I'll know more give me, from now on, to be me? So exquisitely me, not to avoid saying and doing things just to avoid the blatant copying by others?
When I was ripped off pieces of me I felt naked, deprived of something of mine that I have not quite recapture. This modesty, this does not let me go, that's not afraid to be me to be someone else is something to work on, that strikes me. It 's a mechanism is a bit' funny and rusty, I feel it creaking and bad runs. It leaves me a bit 'wrong. I located a bit 'a spontaneous sigh. We will be working.
Then, communications. Others. The emotions. So many pieces to put together, a nerve center to be unveiled. Already I see it pulses, wires and bright buttons, noticeable tremors.
Courage. En streets.
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