Original subtitles

Hey

I'm looking. I'm looking. I'm trying to understand. Trying to give

what I experienced to someone and I don't know to whom. But I don't want to stay with what I experienced. No

I know what to do with what I experienced. I have fear of this deep disorganization.

I don't trust what happened to me. Something happened to me,

because I don't know how to live, I lived another one.

I prefer to call this disorganization, because I don't want to confirm what I experienced.

In confirmation of me, I I would lose the world as I had it

and I know I don't have the capacity for another.

Yesterday morning, when I left room for the maid's room,

nothing made me suppose that I was one step away of discovering an empire, one step away from me.

My most primal fight for the most primal life,

would open up with peace of mind devourer of desert animals.

That morning, before entering the room,

What was I?

14th festival of January

how difficult it is to know what I was like.

The day before, the maid had said goodbye.

I got up at the end of the breakfast table. this woman.

Not having any maid that day would give me the kind of activity that

I wanted. The tidying up. I always liked tidy up. Tidying is finding the best way.

Ordering things, I create and I understand at the same time.

If I didn't belong for money and culture to class to which I belong, and would normally have had the

housekeeping job in a large house of rich people, where there is a lot to fix.

I treat myself the way people treat me.

I am what others see from me.

They refer to me as someone who makes sculptures that wouldn't be bad if there had been less

amateurism. For a woman, this reputation is socially very important and placed me in an area that

socially it is between woman and man. that It made me much freer to be a woman.

All this gave me the slight pre-climax tone.

I didn't need the climax or the revolution or more

than pre-love, which is so much happier than love.

A promise was enough for me.

One promise was enough for me.

My last, peaceful love connection he had dissolved amicably with a caress.

I'm slightly gaining the taste again tasteless and happy of freedom.

This places me, hieroglyphic fragment of an empire dead or alive.

Only my portraits photograph an abyss.

An abyss. Maybe it was this tone of pre-climax that I saw in

haunted photography. An abyss you're welcome. Just this big, empty thing.

All portraits of people They are a portrait of Mona Lisa.

The pre-climax was perhaps even now my existence.

As for my so-called intimate life, perhaps it was also sculpture that gave him

a slight tone of pre-climax by have gone through the experience

to patiently wear away the matter until you find your immanent sculpture.

The rest, oh, now I know. The rest was the way little by little I had become

transformed into the person who bears my name. It is enough to see my valizes, initials,

come-me

where would I start? and also so that then in the seventh hour as on the seventh day,

be free to rest and have a rest calm day. Calm almost without joy.

The week before, I had too much fun and now I wanted that day exactly as

he promised himself. Maybe I would start by tidying up at the end of the apartment. The maid's room

he must have been filthy in his dual role as sleeping quarters and deposit of rags, old suitcases,

useless wrapping paper and string. I would leave it clean and ready for the new

employee. Then I would read the newspaper lying down on the couch and probably falling asleep.

Lost in the scorching hell of a canon, a woman desperately fights for her life.

Yesterday, however, I lost during hours and hours of my human assembly.

But now, now I know a secret. I knew what I couldn't understand. My

mouth was sealed and all I was left with were incomprehensible fragments of a ritual.

Life and death were mine and I was monstrous.

My courage was that of a sleepwalker who simply goes.

Eu

vi.

I know I saw it because I didn't. And what I saw my sense. I know I saw it because I don't understand it.

I know I saw it because what I saw is useless.

Listen, what I saw shatters my daily life.

Listening,

Sorry I gave you this. I well I wish I had seen something better.

Take what I saw. Deliver me from my useless vision and of my useless sin.

I'm so scared that I can only accept that I got lost if I imagine that

someone is giving me a hand. Give a hand to someone was what I expected from joy.

Often, before falling asleep,

in this little fight not to lose the consciousness and enter the greater world,

I pretend that someone is giving me a hand and then I go I go to the enormous absence

so that I sleep. And when Even so, I don't have the courage,

dream.

For now, I need to hold this one of yours hand, even if you can't invent your own

face and your eyes and your mouth. Although severed, this hand doesn't scare me.

Her invention comes from such an idea of ​​love,

as if the hand were actually linked to a body that I cannot see.

It's because of an inability to love more.

I'm not up to imagining a person whole, because I'm not a whole person.

And how can I imagine a face if I don't know what facial expression do I need?

As soon as I can spare this hand of yours hot, I will go alone and with horror. THE

horror will be my responsibility until the metamorphosis is complete.

Although I know the horror,

I am the horror in the face of things. I

It was a beautiful replica itself. And here is a woman who does not give work,

who smiles and laughs. A woman who doesn't laugh at a man.

And gently I eat my pleasure. I'm bored feeds and eats me the sweet boredom of a honeymoon.

This is who I am, I still won't have it all the appearance of someone who failed and only me

I will know if it was the necessary failure. Just I will know if it was the necessary failure.

Oh.

Да. Give me your unknown hand,

that life is hurting me too much and I don't know how to say it.

What probably I asked and finally got it. He came,

Yet leave me needy like a child who walks the earth alone.

So needy that only the love of all universe for me could console me.

For a great one, I tasted life-giving death,

the fine death that made me handle the forbidden fabric of life.

It is prohibited to say the name of the life and I almost said it.

It was love that I saw.

Will it take courage for what I'm going to do? to say

and risk the huge surprise that I will feel the poverty of what was said.

As soon as I say it, I will have to add it. It's not that. It's not that.

I put off talking to myself out of fear

and because I don't have a word to say say. I don't have a word to say.

Why don't I shut up? Then,

Why don't you shut me up? Then,

I will create what happened to me alone because living is not relatable.

Living is not livable.

I will have to create about life and without lying. Creating yes, lying no.

Creating is not imagination, it is running great risk of having reality.

How shall I say now? which had already begun see what would only be evident later.

I was already starting to see it and I didn't know. I saw it since I was born and I didn't know.

I did not know.

3000 years ago I lost my mind and what What remained were fragments of me,

telegraph signals, the world bristles of antennas and me capturing the signal.

Margarine

Surrendering to what I don't understand will mean putting me on the edge of nowhere and just going. And how

a blind woman lost in a field, this supernatural thing that is living.

to

Eu

morality was the desire to understand and how I didn't I understood, I fixed things. It was just yesterday and now

that I discovered that I had always been deeply moral. I only admitted the purpose for my deep

previous morality, I have discovered that I am as rawly alive as that raw light that yesterday

I learned for that morality of mine, the glory The horror of being alive is hard. I used to live

of a humanized world, but the purely living destroyed the morality I had.

It's just that a whole world is alive It has the strength of hell.

Amen.

African queen,

foreign enemy.

What was her name?

What was her name?

It is clear,

Janai.

It wasn't surprising that I had it used as if she had no presence.

And his clothes were always brown or in black, which made her invisible.

What happened to me?

I will never know how to understand, but there must be someone

understand. And it's in me that I have to create that someone who will understand.

Even inside the room, I continued somehow on the outside. Already.

Hey

Ah.

Nothing. It was nothing.

No, it was nothing.

Ah!

Ah.

Ah.

So before I understand, my heart turned white like hair turns white.

Grit,

grit.

A

Ah.

He was

attentive. I was all attentive.

is that in this attentive waiting I recognized all my previous waits.

I recognized the attention that also before had lived. The attention that never leaves me.

the attention that may be thing that is most attached to my life.

Who knows, that attention was my own life.

I hadn't fought in 15 centuries. That's the madness. I hadn't killed in 15 centuries.

I hadn't died in 15 centuries. Already.

What had I done? What had I done with myself?

I had killed, I had killed one more blow.

One more blow.

That was it. That was it. So I fall centuries and centuries in mud. It was a mud

where the trees moved with unbearable slowness roots of my identity. This is crazy.

The cockroach doesn't have a nose. One

mulatta to death,

bridal eyes,

the eye is fringed, dark, alive, dustless.

Another same eye.

Two cockroaches embedded in the cockroach.

Each eye reproduced the entire cockroach. Forgive me for giving this hand that I hold,

But I don't want that for myself. Take that cockroach. I don't want what I saw.

Take what I saw.

is that what I saw with embarrassment so painful, so amazed and so innocent.

What I saw looking at me.

What I saw life looking at me.

Father, if I had the courage to abandon, if I I had the courage to abandon my feelings,

If I had the courage to abandon hope, hope of what?

The unknown room,

hell laboratory.

I was in the desert like I had never been before.

Hold my hand

because I feel like I'm going.

Don't let me see

because I'm close to seeing a nucleus of life.

The cockroach is pure seduction.

Eyelashes, blinking eyelashes that call.

Life, my love, is a great seduction, where everything is seduced.

I had arrived at nothing

and nothingness was alive and damp.

It's that hand that supports me. is that I experience I never want again,

in an experience through which I ask myself for forgiveness,

I was leaving my world and entering the world. It's just that I wasn't seeing myself anymore. was coming.

Because you see,

I knew I was getting into raw, raw glory of nature.

seduced.

I, however, fought as best I could against the quicksand that sucked me in.

And every move I made to no no

each movement pushed me further beyond measure.

Not having the strength to fight was my only forgiveness.

And the first true silence began to blow.

But now he knew he had fought, that he had succumbed and that he had given in.

I'm the cockroach.

I am my leg. I am my hair.

I am the whitest patch of light on the plaster from the wall. I am every hellish piece of me.

The world looks at me,

everything looks everything.

Everything lives the other.

Things know things. The things know so much things.

I will call this forgiveness.

This is forgiveness.

Forgiveness is an attribute of living matter.

For now, the metamorphosis of me, It doesn't make any sense to me.

It's a metamorphosis in which I lose everything I had. And what I had was me. I only have

what I am. And now what am I? I am to be standing in fright. I am what I saw.

I don't understand and I'm afraid to understand.

But why me? But why not me? Se Had it not been me, I wouldn't have known.

And having been me, I am just that. What had called me madness or reality.

GH was a woman who lived well. He lived well. lived well. lived in the super layer of the world's sands. G.H.

lived on the top floor of a super structure that, even built in the air, it was a solid building,

herself in the air. And this was had been happening for centuries.

How bees descend to life in the air. And it worked. It worked. Nobody said

that wasn't right. But why Is it possible to restore the silence in me?

As if a woman had been called and without a word, abandoning his life,

denying embroidery, love and already made soul. It is that the previous life had claimed her and she was gone.

Every case of madness is that something came back.

Processes are not owned for what comes, but for what comes back.

Sometimes life comes back and then, like After a deluge, a cupboard emerged,

one person, one loose window, three suitcases. And that seemed like hell to me.

Seen up close, the cockroach is an object of great luxury, a bride with black jewels.

It's all rare, it looks like a single copy. I I felt filthy as the Bible speaks of the filthy. Put

Why did the Bible care so much about the filthy? and made a list of forbidden and unclean animals?

Why? If like the others they had also been created? And why was the unclean thing forbidden?

I had done the forbidden act of touching what is unclean. I had done the forbidden act of touching what is unclean.

They say everything. The Bible says it all. But if I understand what they say,

they themselves will call me crazy.

But you shall not eat of the unclean, which are the eagle, the griffin and the merlin,

and neither the owl, nor the swan, nor the bat, nor the stork and all the ravens.

And the law says that whoever eats unclean, who eats it without knowing.

For whoever eats what is unclean, knowing that is unclean, he will also know that the unclean

It's not filthy. And everything that goes down and has wings, he will be unclean and will not be eaten.

Help! Help! Get filthy of what? become filthy with joy.

My love,

see how I'm already losing courage to find what you need to find.

See how I'm already losing the courage to give myself to

path. And I'm already promising us that In this hell I will find hope.

Help! Help! Help! Why? I don't had nothing to ask for. I wasn't against

to ask for help. I had arrested The filth of the world stands before me.

Santa Maria,

I offer you my life in exchange for not being true this moment right now. Have experienced

It was already the beginning of a hell of wanting. Santa Maria, do you want? To want. I offer. Use my life

in exchange for this moment of now. My desire to want was more

stronger than my will to salvation and disenchanted the living thing. Santa Maria,

I lose my ideas, I offer you my life in exchange for this moment not being true now.

I remembered you when I kissed your face of man slowly and that the salt of tears

In your eyes was my love for you. To my kiss, your most profoundly insipid life

was given to me. And kissing your face was ice and busy work, patient in love.

It was a woman weaving a man, just as you had woven me.

Neutral craftsmanship of life.

The country was at 11 o'clock in the morning, superficially like a backyard that is

green of the most delicate superficiality. Green, green, green is a backyard.

Between me and the green, the river water.

Nothing is heard. In the rest of the house the shade It's all swollen. It's 11 o'clock in the morning

in Brazil. And now. This is exactly about now.

Amen.

Song of thanksgiving for the murder of one being for another being. Amen. Murder more

deep. That which is a mode of relationship, which is a way for one being to exist for another being.

A way of seeing each other, of to be ourselves, to have ourselves.

Murder where there is no victim or something,

but a bond of mutual ferocity. My primary struggle for life.

Lost in hell, scorching a canon, a woman desperately fights for her life.

But hell has already taken me, my love. I was already selling my human soul,

because seeing it start to consume me in pleasure. I sold my future,

I sold my salvation. I sold us. Pray for me, my mother. Pray for me.

Do you feel,

Don't you feel like it's something that needs to be known?

Goodbye. Beauty of the world. God. Beauty of the world.

Blessed is the fruit of your womb. Blessed is the fruit of your womb.

The scandal is still necessary, but woe to that by whom the scandal comes. Era in the New Testament

which was said: "Freedom is a secret. Although I know that freedom does not solve my guilt,

my tiny divine part is greater than my human guilt. So, I prefer God to my guilt.

I want God in what comes out of the cockroach's belly.

Even if this, in my old human terms mean the worst. And in human terms,

the infernal. I wanted, I wanted

your eyes would be salty

if I touched them with my mouth? I can't. I would feel them salty.

Mom, I don't want to feel it directly on my mouth so delicate the salt of the cockroach's eyes.

I can't do anything for you, cheap. I don't want to do anything for you.

If the phone rang, I would have to answer it

and would still be saved. I would run away from room to meet and never again,

I would never go back. I

recognized the cockroach's vigil,

both neutral and fertile ovaries.

In them I recognized my two anonymous ovaries neutrals and I didn't want them. Oh, how I didn't want to.

I had hung up the phone, but maybe they could ring the door bell and I would be free.

The blouse, the blouse that I had bought,

they had said they would send her and then they would ring the bell, the blouse.

No, they wouldn't play.

I would be forced to continue to recognize.

and recognized in the cockroach the sense of time I was pregnant.

Doctor, I remembered myself walking on the streets upon learning that she would have an abortion.

When I walked, I carried it.

through the streets, I felt the son inside me which still didn't move. I already knew

myself the bright gaze of a cockroach that was taken by the waist.

And living, doctor, was the opposite side of a crime.

Pregnancy. I was thrown into the merry horror of the life that lives and moves.

I told you, sir, what else What bothers me, doctor, is that I'm breathing badly.

Ea.

I swear, I swear, I will do anything you want, but Don't leave me trapped in the cockroach's room,

because something huge is going to happen to me. No I want the other species, I just want the people.

How I hate the sunlight that reveals everything, reveals even the possible.

But no one touches your eyes, filthy. Only another cockroach would want this cockroach.

But what about me? Who would want me today?

Who has ever been as dumb as me? Who as I was calling fear love and

wanting love and needing love? Who like me I knew I had never changed shape since the

time when they had drawn me on the stone of a cave and next to a man and a dog?

It feels bad to hold my hand. It's bad to stay without air in this collapsed mine where I

brought you without mercy for you, but out of pity for me. But I swear that

I will get you out of here alive. Not even me lie, even if I lie what my eyes

saw. I will save you from this terror where, for now, I need you.

You innocently gave me your hand and because I I assured him that I had the courage to sink.

How to compensate you?

At least use me as a tunnel. dark.

And when you cross my darkness,

you will find yourself on the other side with you.

You won't meet me, perhaps. I don't know if I'll cross, but with you.

If the person is not committed to hope, lives the demonic. Leave it now

I tell you the scariest. I was being taken by the demonic,

for the inexpressive is diabolical. The same in cheap, the same in the stars, the same in itself.

The demonic is before the human. If the person have the courage to let go of your feelings,

discover the broad life of a extremely busy silence.

The divine pre-human life is current that burns. And if a person sees this current situation, he

burns as if seeing the God. The God. The God. I will tell you. I was afraid of blind joy and

already fierce that it began to take over me and lose me. The joy of getting lost is a Sabbath joy.

get lost when you think you are dangerous. I was experiencing in that desert the fire of

things and it was hell, because in that world where I lived there was no mercy or

hope. Now I know what happens in the dark from the mountains on orgy nights. I know. I know

with horror. We enjoy things, we enjoy things that things get done. This is the raw joy of

black magic. I felt the joy of hell. And the hell is not the torture of pain, it is the torture of a

happiness. Neutral is inexplicable and alive. Search understand me. Just like protoplasm and seed

and the protein are of a living neutral. And I was all new, like someone who has just started. It was as if

Before I had an addicted taste for salt and sugar and with my soul addicted to

joys and pains and had never tasted first. And now I tasted nothing.

And the taste was new, like mother's milk, which It only tastes like a child's mouth. I passed

orgiacally feeling the taste of identity of things. It's very difficult to feel.

Sleep with me awake and only like that you will be able to know about my great sleep.

and you will know what the living desert is.

But I'm going to take a risk because I trust in my future cowardice

and it will be my essential cowardice that will rearrange me again in person

in this new cowardice of mine.

Cowardice is the youngest thing I've ever seen happened. It's my biggest adventure.

It's like waking up in the morning in a foreigner's house.

I don't know if I'll have the courage to just go.

with red ones and red ones there is nothing.

It must have been after noon that day. room excavated in the rock of a building,

from the window of my minaret, I was looking for spaciousness.

Yeah, this is a very nice guy.

Ah.

From the top of this building, the present contemplates the present.

And I had grown up and become so simple like a queen. I was maybe the first

person stepping into that castle in the air. This is the city where I live, everything extinct,

because I was looking for the treasure from my city, Rio de Janeiro,

whose inhabitants in the sun were 600,000 beggars.

The city's treasure could be in a of the gravel breccias, but which one?

That city needed of cartography work.

And don't forget, as I begin the work of prepare to make mistakes, don't forget that the error

had often become my path. All the times when what I didn't work out

thought or felt, it was that one finally made a loophole. And if I had had the courage before,

I would have already entered through it. But I He had always been afraid of delirium and error.

Oh, I want to go back to my home

and later you would be able to understand me.

I don't know.

If only I had entered the room at dusk, tonight I would see the

full moon rises over the desert, for the wet moon made me miss my life.

Disgust is necessary for me.

Disgust guides me and fertilizes me.

A long time ago I was drawn with you in a cave and with you I swam from its

dark depths to this day. I swear that That's how love is. But for us it will

it must be at night. I know that everything We had love until today.

The night is so humid that plants grow. We are moist and salty beings. In homes

the lights go out so the locusts walk on the leaves almost without touching them.

The leaves, the leaves, the leaves.

Guess me, guess me, why is it cold?

But are you afraid? I know that always you were afraid of the ritual.

If you can know through me, without first needing to be tortured,

without first having to be split through a wardrobe door,

without first breaking the your shells of fear.

But when you were tortured until you reached be a core, then it goes demonically

to want to serve the ritual, even if the ritual is the act of self-consumption,

the way of living is a secret so secret that it is the silent creep of a secret.

Oh, my love, things are very delicate and we step on them with

a paw that is too human, with too many feelings.

Just the delicacy of innocence or just the delicacy of the initiated is that he feels almost zero taste.

I borrowed from you, you are the most old in my memory.

If I could only convey the memory to you Now live from what we both already lived without knowing.

No, I don't want to scare you my love. If you're scared of me,

I will be scared of myself. Don't have fear of pain. All things happen

above or below the pain. Pain is not the name true of what we call pain.

the ritual. Believe me, because I think I know. Ritual is the mark of the God.

That was what we lived and despised. I didn't know love was happening

much more exactly when not there was what we called love.

What I'm talking about is that when nothing happened, If nothing happened, we called it a break.

But what was that interval like?

The man who was delicate with things and with time. I didn't know I learned so much

with you. I learned to look at a person by tracing threads electrical, taking care of the positive and negative pole.

You were the monotony of my eternal love. And me

I did not know. I didn't know how to see That was delicate love

and it felt like boredom to me. It was boredom. It was a search

someone to play with. The abundance of the body that doesn't ask for it and doesn't need it.

And I couldn't stand the slow transformation of something that slowly turns into

even something. I had for you boredom I feel on holidays.

My sore throat is gone, I told you. Our every word,

every word was so light and empty like a butterfly.

In the intervals that we called empty and calm, my vision all big and trembling,

it was the huge flower opening.

I will never rest again. I stole the hunting horse of the king of Sheba. Every day will be the same thing.

I know that the first drum on the mountain will make the

night. I know that the third one has already will have been involved in its thunderstorm.

And by the fifth drum I'll be there unconscious in my greed.

What did we do, those who trot in the hell of joy?

The last time I came down from my decorated cell, I swore than ever again. The hazing, however, continues with me.

I talk, tidy the house, smile, but I know the hazing is in me.

I miss you like someone who dies. I can't let go anymore.

Nobody knows, nobody sees it in my mouth and on his paws the mark of blood.

What do we emulate?

The happy night is my sad life.

From that country of rats and tarantolas and cockroaches, my love, in which joy drips onto fat women

drops of blood. Only mercy of God could take me out of the terrible

indifferent joy in which I bathed myself. all full, for I exulted. I knew the

violence of the joyful dark. I was happy like the devil. Hell is my ultimate.

My God, give me what you have already done or given. AND

It's me who can't take the step who will give me what you have already done.

What you did is me.

And I can't take the step to me. Me that things and you

give me what you are in me.

Give me what you are in others.

You are the him. I know. I know. Because when I play I see him.

But he,

the man,

take care of what you gave him.

It is wrapped in a wrapper made especially for me to touch and see.

And I want more than the wrapper, which I also love.

I want what I love you.

Deep down, we are so, so happy, because there is no a unique way of getting in touch with life.

The secret of strength was strength. The secret of love

it was love. And the jewel of the world it was an opaque piece of stuff.

I miss hell. I'm not up to staying

in paradise. that paradise has no human taste.

But that would be destruction. It is a sin to enter divine matter.

Staying inside the thing is crazy.

Listen. I know that if I abandon a life all organized by hope, it hurts.

It's like the agony of death.

Something in death wants to break free and has at the same time afraid of letting go of the safety of my body.

See, my love, because I have plunged into the abyss,

I'm starting to love the abyss what I'm made of. And it's not dangerous,

but there was a moment. No I'm talking about the future,

I'm talking about a permanent topic.

Hope for me was a postponement,

but I discover that it's not even necessary to have hope. AND

as if the future stopped coming into existence.

Listen without fear and without suffering that hope does not exist,

because it is no longer a postponed future.

It's today.

Because God doesn't promise. He is very bigger than that. He is and never stops

to be. We are the ones who can't stand this light always current and we promise it for later.

The present is the face of God today.

The horror is that we know it is in life even if we see God.

It is with our eyes open that we see God. And if I postpone the face of reality until after

my death, it's because I prefer to be dead at the time to see him and so I think I won't really see him.

Just as I only have the courage to Truly dream when I'm sleeping.

I know what I'm feeling It's serious and can destroy me,

because it's like you're giving me the news that the kingdom of heaven has already

and. And I don't want the kingdom of heaven. I I don't want it. I can only take your promise.

Giving up hope means I have to start living and not just promising me life.

And this is the biggest scare I can have. I I didn't have the courage to stop being one

promise. I would prefer to continue asking without the courage to already have it.

And I have. I always will. I just need I have. Need never ends. Don't put yourself

In the face of hope is not destruction of the request and is not abstaining from the grace period.

It's increasing it. It's infinitely increasing the request that arises from lack.

The more we need, the more God exists. The more we can,

the more God we will have. Like blind people who they grope and we feel used

by God. But this awakens in us the disturbing desire to also use it.

To have it, we just need to need it. To need

it is always the supreme moment. Without you I couldn't live.

I don't want beautiful love, I don't want expressive love,

I want the inexpressive, I want the inhuman within the person.

Wanting to be human sounds too beautiful to me. I want the stuff of things. There is a

something that is broader, duller, more deeper, less good, less bad, less beautiful.

In the world there is no plan aesthetic. The thing is much more than this.

God is greater than goodness with his beauty.

Talking to me and you is being mute. Talking to God is what

the dumber there is. Talking to things is dumb. I know this sounds sad to you and to me too.

And that's why the muteness is hurting me like a dismissal.

No, don't misunderstand me.

I'm not taking anything from you. It's a much greater love than I am demanding of myself.

It's a life so much bigger that it doesn't even have beauty. One thing, I know. If I arrive

At the end of this story, I will not go tomorrow, but Today, eat and dance at the bambino top.

I really need it have fun and have fun.

Yes, I will wear a new blue dress that makes me slimmer a little and it gives me colors. I will call Carlos,

Josefina, Antonio. I don't remember well which of the two I realized wanted me

or they both wanted me.

I will eat revetes no matter what. And I know why I will eat revetes. Tonight,

tonight my daily life will resume, of my common joy. I'll need it for the rest

of my days of my slight vulgare. Sweet and good humorous. I need to forget, like everyone else.

It's just that I didn't tell you everything.

Ah.

bless blessed

blessed lord Bless blessed blessed

H

t

A

I lost something that was essential to me and which is no longer mine. I don't need it,

just as if I had lost a third leg that until then made it impossible for me to walk,

but it made me a stable tripod. This third leg I lost and became one again

person I've never been. I got what I never had again I had. Just the two legs. I know that only with

two legs is that I can walk, but the absence the useless third one I miss and scares me.

I'm talking about death, not life.

Because there is a trajectory. And the trajectory is not just

a way to go. The trajectory is ourselves.

When it comes to living, you can never arrive sooner.

The via cruces is not a detour, it is the passage unique. It can only be reached through it and with it.

Now I'm not taking your hand for myself.

I'm the one holding your hand. I know to believe In all of this it will be in the beginning, your great loneliness.

But there will come a moment when you will hold my hand, no more out of loneliness, but now like me, out of love.

Loneliness is not needing. And don't need leave the man very alone, all alone.

Ah, love is so much more fatal than me had thought. Love is already there, it is always there.

All that's missing is the stroke of grace called passion.

I'm finally walking towards the path inverse, path towards the destruction of

that I built. Path to the loss of everything what can be lost and still be.

little by little take away from yourself with an effort so attentive that it does not

you feel the pain. Take it away from you like who gets rid of their own skin.

The first step towards each other is to find in yourself the woman of all

the women. Every woman is woman of all women.

Eu

I was always afraid of being struck by achievement. I had always thought that the realization

It's an ending and it won't count on the need always rising. Necessity is my guide.

Reality is the matter.

Language is the way I'm going to look for it.

And since I don't think so,

by destiny I have to go and look for by fate I return with empty hands,

but I come back with something indispensable. Only when the construction is that I get what she couldn't.

Insistence is our effort.

Withdrawal is the prize. Giving up is the most sacred choice of a life.

I was getting closer to what I think which was trust. I trusted.

At last, at last, mine had really been broken. casing. And without limit I was. Because it isn't,

I was until the end of what I didn't was, I was. What is not me, I am.

Everything will be in me if I don't go, because I am just one of the world's instantaneous spasms.

My life doesn't just have human meaning, it's very bigger. It is so much bigger that in relation to humans it is not

it makes sense. the general organization that was larger than me. Until then I had only noticed the fragments,

but now I was much less than human and alone I would realize my specifically human destiny if

give myself up, as I was giving myself up to what I already had it wasn't me, to what is already inhuman, and giving myself

with the confidence of belonging to the unknown, for I can only pray to what I do not know.

And I can only love the unknown evidence of things. And I can only add to what

I don't know. Only this is a real delivery. And such delivery is the only overcoming that does not

exclude me. I was now so much bigger that I no longer I saw myself, as big as a landscape in the distance.

I was far away, but noticeable in my eyes. last mountains and in my most remote rivers.

Simultaneous current affairs no longer scared me and in the last extremity of me, I could

finally smiling without me smiling any less. Anyway, I it extended me beyond my sensitivity.

The world was independent of me. This was the confidence that I had arrived. The world was independent of me.

And I'm not understanding what I'm saying. Never. I will never understand what I say again.

Because how could I say without the word lie for me? How can I

say if not shyly like that? Life is mine. Life is mine.

Life is gone.

Life is mine and I don't understand what I say. And then I love it,

I love, I love,

I adore,

I adore.

yes

It's wood, it's stone, it's the end of the road. It's the rest of I play, it's a little lonely. It's a piece of glass, it's the

life, is the sun. It's the night, it's death. It's the bond, it's the hook, it's field peroba, it's the wood knot. Canga

lamp. It's a so-called pear tree, it's windwood. Tom from the bank. It's a deep mystery. And the

whether you want it or not. It's the wind blowing. It's the end from the slope. It's the beam. It's the vain. Food feast.

It's rain raining. It's riverside talk March waters. It's the end of tiredness. It's the foot,

it's the floor. It's the masquerade. Little bird in hand. Sling stone. It's a bird in the sky. It's a

bird on the ground. It's a stream. It's a source. It's a piece of bread. It's rock bottom. It's the end of

path. Disgust on his face. It is a body alone. It is a streppe, it's a nail. It's a tip. It's a tale,

It's a ping one. It's an account, it's a tale, it's a fish, it's a gesture. It's a shining silver. It's the

morning light, it's the brick coming. It's the firewood, it's the day is the end of the beating. It's the sugarcane bottle,

shrapnel on the road. It's the house project. It's the body on the bed. It's the stalled car. AND

the mud. It's the mud. It's one step. It's a bridge. It's a frog. It's a frog. It's a wizard's remains

light. in the morning. It's the waters of March closing the summer and the promise of life in your heart. No.

It's a snake, a stick. It's João, it's José, it's a thorn. In the hand, it's a cut on the foot.

It's the waters of March closing the summer. And the promise of life in your heart. It's dick,

It's stone, it's the one on the stump path alone. It is a step, it's a bridge, it's a saint, it's a frog,

It's a beautiful horizon, it's a Tuesday fever. They are the March waters closing the summer. It's the promise

of life in your heart. Stick, stone, wine, fire, hollow. Wine, hydro, hydra, night, steel,

sun. It's the waters of March closing the summer. Promise of life in your heart.

and