We Can Sell Our Time, But We

I'm Proud Of The Scars In My Soul. They Remind Me That I Have An Intense Life.

The Mirror Reflects Perfectly; It Makes No Mistakes Because It Doesn't Think. To Think Is To Make Mistakes.

I'm Not A Body With A Soul, I'm A Soul That Has A Visible Part Called The Body

I've Always Been A Very Restless Person. I Work Hard, Spend Too Much Time Looking After My Son, I Dance Like A Mad Thing, I Learned Calligraphy. I Go To Courses On Selling, I Read One Book After Another. But That's All A Way Of Avoiding Those Moments When Nothing Is Happening, Because Those Blank Spaces Give Me A Feeling Of Absolute Emptiness, In Which Not A Single Crumb Of Love Exists.

I Was Trying To Come Round To The Idea That There Might Be An Invisible Reality Capable Of Interfering In Our Lives, But The Only Reason I Did So Was Because Of A Love I Didn't Want To Believe I Felt But Which Was Continuing To Grow In A Subtle, Devastating Way. I Was Content In My Universe And Didn't Want To Change It At All, Even Though I Was Being Propelled In That Direction.