Translate That Shit, Foreigner of Yourself..

On this night of writing, Saturday night, I have nothing to write that will please your hungry eyes. Yea! Hungry eyes that search incessantly through the mirror of the world, where they only reflect their own selfishness, still incomprehensible, of their internal illnesses.

Go to your own mirror, unique and still available. Observe carefully how weak and small you are compared to the mirror of the world that is so compared. The feeling of impotence and subpotence soon takes over his being: like a mosquito that haunts him during sleepless nights: so fragile that a simple, light wind destroys him .

Why then do you want so many things? Your life is just a countdown that will imperceptibly turn everything that is just to dust. You’re dust, and you’ll never get past that!

So go back to where you came from; whence your soul cries out for penance for its own restoration. Abandon this empty shell, this dry and cracked vessel, and beg for your Life.

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