"The dark side of himself. A place in the mind described with few words. The place remembered in a cold night of April. There are not a total silence. At the moment, the wind hits the windows accompanying an aria escaping from some website. The place where all daemons and fears are at same time in behalf of all passions and hatreds. A spot observed between the last light and the black blanket before sleep.
At which time this dark side is bad? For everybody at the moment of the pleasure nothing is bad. At in the end, if in the world exists the possibility to not judge, there are not any bad or good. Only decisions. Consequences are the rest of the history that it is possible to live. Same if it's not a good argument to remember. Or worst, the idea revealed to be alone.
This hidden place allows to be "better" in the real world. Same if only the silence exists in a nigh without any beer of wine. Same if we are with the nudity of the pleasure without love. The same moment to not give descriptions or explanations. Attending the morning in hours, without think for a specific moment, with the fear of some questions without any response. So, what questions? Questions without any sufficient answers.
Is April. The wind hits the windows at the night birds coming announcing the real world and the next morning of spring. The dark side hosts the basic instincts and all idea without a rational explanation or justificable answer. Twelve minutes to sleep and may be days to try in culpability to forget the way to the black spot. The necessary place to find and leave passions and fears without inspiration or love."
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