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It is dark, but I feel comfortable under the shivering light of the full moon covered by dark clouds. At every single one of my reluctant steps, I smell a rotten odor strangely agreeable. In my ears, I can hear an infinite violin sonata, but I can not discern if it comes from outside me or if it is playing inside my own self. No, I am not a vampire, nor a zombie, nor any of those stupid characters. I am alive, I can feel the pleasure of the air fulfilling my lungs, but I am sure that the dead cells of my skin are constantly falling to the mud, giving space to the new ones that would endure the pains of waiting their immediate death. I am alive, but I know that I am nothing more than a walking group of dying cells, sustained by feeding on the meat of cooked corpses. I have no memory that I can be perfectly sure to be true, nor any clear ascertains about the future. In fact, what are memories, beyond the remains of fullish illusions of a body, holding to his own eyes in the hope of capturing doubtful lights of reality. What is reality, beyond rays of light reflecting in material bodies, interpreted by the ignorant muscles of a certain brain. What is the brain, beyond a bag of cells trying desperately to send electrical signals to each other. And the future… I should not waste words about the future, the future is phantoms of reality, moaning dreams and fears.

The infinite violin sonata pauses for a moment, and I can hear nothing but the echoes of the eternal sound of silence, I can feel nothing but the neutral ecstasy of the emptiness. Haha, how silly I am!.. Of course I cannot know nothing, of course I cannot know if I am walking in this garden of black roses, reality is nothing but the vain illusions of a desolated self.

But I keep walking, dirtying my feet in the mud, trying desperately to believe in my undulant and unclear senses.

I do not know anymore if I am hearing a violin or a cello, if the black roses are roses or some other black flower whose categorization I will never be able to know.

How can we walk in this world, knowing only our most absolute ignorance? How can we manage the fear of the most absolute unknown in every single aspect of life?

Where do we draw the courage to move our feet forward to another point in the ground, carrying only uncertainties and fear?

Like the dark knight running in the desolated forest, trying to escape from an unknown that he cannot kill with his sharp blade, here we are, equilibrating ourselves in the thin line of life, ready to fall in the realms of death at any single instant. Somehow my heart does not beat fast while I walk in this garden of black roses, but I can feel despair and fear growing slowly and slowly inside the depths of my mind.

It is uncomfortable how familiar I feel in this strange atmosphere, like I was only in the living room of my own house, but past midnight, at that time in the dawn where kids see monsters and phantoms in their own dwellings, and feel a fear that they would never believe should be possible in the comfortable and unreliable lights of the day. But kids are foolish, you know, they still believe in their senses, they still believe in the safety of light, they think their parents and teachers actually know something.

Destruindo a Ejaculação Precoce

I see a huge old clock under a dead tree. Its numbers are written in blood, and its body is full of holes. The pointers move slowly, cutting the air with a rusty sound. I move forward, trying to reach the clock, but the distance does not change as I move.

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I step, I move ahead, but the clock is always there, farther away, laughing at me. My heart beats fast, despair reaches the foolish cells of my brain.

I try to walk faster, faster, faster, I run.

But the clock is always there, farther away, laughing at me. I am tired. I cannot feel the air in my lungs, but I am sure that the cells are still dying and falling into the floor. I look at the mud, I look at the dirty. I look ahead, and the clock is still staring at me with sarcasm in his eyes.

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I look at the dirty, I look at the mud. I look ahead, and the clock is not there anymore. Where am I? When am I?

I am between two instants of time, I am between two points of space. I am in the hidden of a second, I am in the instant of a place. I am in that point of time of the most absolute and infinite nothing, in that point of space where everything stands dead and still.

I am in that only moment of place, in that only point of time where we can finally understand ourselves. I am falling. Indico muito a leitura desse livro.

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Leitura recomendada. Hey, guys! Today I want to comment on the future they stole from Sofia Silva and publication of the gift box. This tale was published in the book for you that brings together three more tales of other authors In April the label released it in e-book and is also available on Amazon. Sofia Silva is a love of person, but able to leave any reader with the heart in his hand.

I know that from her I can expect something exciting, dramatic, beautiful and full of love and in the future that they stole from us In the tale we have the story of Mia Andersen and how her life was devastated by the loss of the person she loved most, her son Years after the fateful event she still suffers a lot for the loss and to make it worse she is still judged by all the residents of the small After losing his best friend, Andrew Cooper went away, but he needs to come back because he made a promise.

Together, Mia and Andrew will try to overcome some of the pain caused by the loss of the person they loved most, but there are also many secrets that still need I don't even have to say that I've been Sofia has the gift of engaging the reader in stories of leaving the heart tight.

From the beginning the book is hurt and full of things that bother. The way she conducted the chapters, like three different narratives, just made sure I couldn't drop reading at any time.