-8 en

and the days slipped through the entire week until today.
and if i said last week i don't want to write, maybe i want, maybe not, life full of maybes.
who am i?
just someone who thinks to be someone who presses the keyboard.
with what purpose?
no purpose. someone calls it life.
someone.
are you someone or am i?
what classic writer is going to serve as my inspiration to say i am not writing anything, i am just that one who once said that?
and yet: if i say something said before, where is the one who claims that i am saying something already said?
words and words and words and words.
that makes the purpose of coming in with something old, but the old expression on a new mouth becomes new.
and i look at someone who says i am 66.
i look at his eyes.
i look at yours.
i look at my eyes on the mirror.
no eyes and no age.
age: experience.
thoughts may be slowed by age, but must be brighter.
always brighter.
sometimes with words forgotten, but best words always remembered.
i love you world.
where's the story?
ah!
and then he crossed the road. he looked at the desert road again and thought: this is going to be a highway someday.
he looked to a small tree next to the road and said: this tree is more important than a highway.
what am i going to do to protect this tree?
and the tree thought: what can i do to protect this little man, on the middle of a crowded highway?
eerie