Absences

"Monday night in the civilisation and the last days are the absences of true meetings. Now, the short phrases are sufficient for each communication, only some optimists and poets search other encounters. Human moments in peers, with the conversations of the words never said, same in the virtuality, searching the eyes bright through the screen, finding silences. There is more sincerity in the silences than in the tears. Laughter is forgotten and orgasms are faked, the selfish habitude of the humans during the new (and end times).  She there, careless, her eyes sad and sleepy. He could only cry and I was silent. I never imagined what it would be like fifteen years later ...  as now. A Monday in the worst of the distance. That night I could leave her alone, but the frustration would have been worse than the disappointment. For her. For me.

October was magic for the predominant part of the civilisation, not necessary composed by the most part of the people. But in the absence of inspiration, magic can be motivating for a stressful world. However, this year is not for magic but for knowledge, to survive. A year to identify the real value of the worlds and. the moments. The year  in which it was shown that this civilisation must disappear, to make way for another humans. I am in peace - he said himself while the battle ended in the distance.  Tomorrow, his bare feet will tread the blood on the field, both of the righteous and of the innocent. What? in the end everyone is responsible. I am in peace - he said for second time, hearing both screams of terror and rage. Tomorrow, some moan break the silence.

It is not possible to think another thing: however, the how is the problem. How another humanity can be possible? In urgency, the moment is now, and all reasons are exposed every day, more Today, the last Monday of October,  however the answer is not magic, is real and it is composed for simple and common words, but with more complex arguments, as the true. It is possible to write the most detailed story, however, the feat will never be to look for me, but to forget me. So, erase my body track with another and just make fun of what I can feel. October to pass the savannah in a world that to say so is punishable. October, with all the spells and potions to poison every love. Then, I can smell your hear and find a way to lose myself in dreams,  a last time. October again.

True is not simple but it can be confronted. The arguments built with facts shown the context and the evidence to understand the reality, same if the fanaticism screams a conformed true, in few words. So, in absence of the intellectuality, only with passion and the establishment propaganda the accepted reality is over any reasoning. For the rest,  the noise is responsible for dismissing the reflexion and the silence. I remember (and sure, I write in the past) the last morning with you. And how I felt to see you sleeping naked in the morning in my big bed. Any possibility of a simple true, and the complexity of the reality makes that after six years or six weeks I'm alone. Thinking about the magic and the refutable in the last days fo the Earth.  Without you. October, in the absence of your scent.

However, the evidence is simple. Sometimes the explanation is too much for the humans and the simple picture of a real moment is better than arguments.  The short phrases are replaced by images, however the new problem is the interpretation and the challenge of the abstraction. Complexity appears and the easy way is the passion without any conclusion after a possible meditation or compute. The easy way is the absence. I am in peace - he said however he thinks in she, every night. Waiting her search towards him. But he is a being of absence. A man, a suitably erased and locked existence."