It's Already Us In Ten Minutes. Gerardo D'Orrico

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Название It's Already Us In Ten Minutes
Автор произведения Gerardo D'Orrico
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isbn 9788835413554



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      The day that has no taste, colourless people who interest us, where we will have made a mistake, we are not here or in these parts, already let’s leave that thing alone then, it was not too far ahead will be just words and, obscene matters of blood. Invented also ‘the fact that no one solves, you go up from the ground floor to the eightieth only with an elevator that was built then, placed in that place for that reason. Look outside the house, you don’t have to make fun of me if the reality has to be explained is people, in short I am what you say. Do what you want to do if it’s right or okay for you, you know how many objects even thoughts were forbidden long ago, respecting the law everything is allowed, it was not true that here is wrong or everything is forbidden, to think about it well is ignorance or power. The master does evil there.

      What? Boxes, hidden objects that have no light of experience from ignorance, from forgetfulness, after all it was the same this piece of furniture, is what it is about, it is said what is concrete. Don’t ever stop already, then the batteries run out, so what does it matter somewhere you had to finish but, it’s absence of state, absence of those wonderful laws that would make us more beautiful that instead make us continue roughly so: me, you then all are always more or the opposite stop, it was forbidden even this solid years ago, say or do without fault of who it was, as we are true contemporaries.

      A wrong blood group, with the wrong story and then silences, nothing worse but someone is informed about the future that is no longer a bad thing, okay but it is also beyond already, it has always been known, someone says it because he has taken the wrong road but, for this reason too, there is a path. We travel together with the world, and we are already absurd things in the wrong places, even just to make us make mistakes could seem the state instead it was evil, and I told you everything. Now the things to be said have multiplied, they’re getting faster while a basic procedure has already been called for a good or, therefore, for a human encounter that has already been modified before. It’s all by chance, Madam, or, it’s a bad thing to throw away, who hasn’t made us sew our complete dress. A software is not recommended to me by a friend, the State or other, but a study of personal sectors, understood as a future to avoid.

      It ends where you’ve gone, in the speeches you make, a very slight question sometimes just software but present as the mistakes you do not make, things no one will see, the people you frequent. What you did, what you expect, what deleted you in the program, what you had to do that you didn’t realize. The concept exists, you can’t delete it, they want to make you forget it as superfluous, maybe you think they will make you forget what you have to do, but, you only forget the act you had to do, and it’s already a crime it belongs to the creator, you will remember where the boat will land, the bank. After all, that’s the way things went, nobody said anything and everything disappeared.

      Look around you go over the fiery hill, you are reborn becoming yourself again after a mistake, on this planet at the end of the year zero eight, of infinite forms, some people push saying in a while you finish, nothing will happen again, instead you continue, so now this is life. You are a good thing, your duty is a single thing, you have to do what was good once upon a time, what you didn’t do remains for later, like your dark rooms. Where there is no one, you should spend the whole day, the whole life.

      Other, other speeches afterwards will all be wrong, it seems like the wind is blowing against us. What you did not accept will come back, like what was said sinning not to be true, even if only to do the same things and then to die, nobody tells us how things are, you just talk, you can’t do anything for those badly built realities, who are those then, who is after all your great person, an incorrect Italian after a catastrophe of millions of people, in silence.

      The problem is at the beginning, once explained its fundamental entities for this existence, it gets better and better, as sometimes words consume themselves, without even being said. If you want everything for us, if you find the cornerstones for which the decisions are, steal it but what, the day is already over, beyond everything and all the things to love and say, there is to make order in the chaos of our injustices, after all that has not been done in this past year, it will never end, instead you look better or you turn around and it’s walready over, as other objectivities have become three-dimensional objects, that’s how important they are.

      Too much is too much, you only succeed on one side where it was right to go before, after all the most effective. Flowers that ‘the day ends behind its light, inside an evening that does not end if not in Rome ends. At the end of the end, after only we leave anyway, so as not to return to the place where we weren’t there at that hour, where life begins to create itself in history. We are all that life needs, if we are the ones who change nothing abnormal happens, it is already solved what they are looking for, panting for people you see passing under the window of the house. Sometimes you just have to talk, sometimes it’s just a little too spicy, like in a city that you can’t do anything, because we don’t already exist, try talking to that strange guy of our friend to see what he thinks about the situation. Tell him, how can I tell you, that you’re not in it anymore. I’m still sleepy breathing, advice here is expensive.

      

      “Hello you had to start somewhere, you could start by removing what you are not, what they make you understand for yourself or belong to you more... your deep teasing.” Bye G

      2. Elderly age

      31.01.2009

      To live or to remain without the possibility of not believing in the good, and to know when you have been robbed. I imagine so also my third age or, a journey into loneliness, such a confrontation that life cannot betray, much worse than to say a marriage. Certainly a political relationship interested in a social part of us when we were young, the imaginative view of the present with its never-ending developments, a moment in life made not only of memories but, of a deep knowledge and whole consciousness.

      A mirror to know is that dark evil that takes away the light from the true truth, that still escapes the word, the actions or the works that we all dream of being present. I know that place where you want us to meet again, where you said it was better to see each other or, how many steps there are for that beyond that knows a lot of this way, how terrestrial is that monster that you need to avoid, and it is still there that does not know what you want, every problem arises where the competence to argue ends. The fundamental axis of displacement towards the third age is not a problem, given the large number of people and ideas that carry us forward the day, it would be better to erase the loneliness. The universal starts from the world that has changed, words are even more useful than before, like a capacious object in our city, it seems to be all at stake as when we were children, we do not know what happened not for the real but, it goes for the dream that is said to be interrupted because it is in the air, not in the aqueducts of our Main City that nobody can say, which for everyone is so. Sometimes it is difficult to speak, often we are prevented by those temporal causes, where we do not correspond with reality we dissociate ourselves from the present or rather from the recent past.

      While the century is going, we remain as others say we do, and then it goes on, or it worked the future prospects are really varied, not a canon of ideas that that party wants you to believe. Belief is dear in these times, even if an erasure cannot last forever, the century of good is already recovering, a light in the picture at sunset or, at dawn, heals wounds. Our address, our memories, the dream sometimes appears, one is no longer alone which is better. Afterwards you will see the taste inside, a nothing to the taste of gunpowder, so they still tell us that it is not us or, that this speech goes out of the line, a world of rubbish but certainly not wrong to speak our concrete thought.

      Loneliness a subject like other unsocial, like being death or empty space, sometimes it’s the words that don’t come out of your mouth or you can’t get them out yourself, it’s everyday problems not to talk about it. A tangle of absences and essences that do not build, weights of temporal measures, of what you will do next, of space and above all old age, what it will be to be old. All in one place, in a mine, the false, the profane, the things that are not good, the real current living situation, the real name of what you are looking for, the taste of sweet and bad then, you will tell me not me to you what you have to say or do, a sort of thing that resembles