Short

"There is much to write about and little to read. For this reason, humans may prefer to watch and get lost in reproducing what others do and not what others write. Reading implies thinking. Play a short tape, and give it a like only. And it is fast, overall. Among all the shorts, half an hour or two hours goes by without having to reflect on anything. Why do it if the answers to questions that are never asked are there? In any case, that wasn't the question either. It must be shorter. Music from another era it was not short; on the contrary, it lasted throughout the night. It hadn't been many years since I really understood her. Although the story of its creation, of those moans, of love stories, revenge, and liberation, of the harmonica, a banjo, a guitar, a bass, sometimes a trumpet or a piano. Always a black. Woman, black man. Even if a white guy tries to sing it. Dark hearts, dark minds. Dark eyes, dark voices. Freedom is black. It is not white. 

There is a chain of things so short that they mean nothing. The little things, the little moments, the tagged slogan because the argument and the poem are boring. Even what could be built as a sufficient idea for the human to think and distinguish his conscience and his will is lost in the next swap. The substance that builds a conscience, not a series of obedience out of fear or convenience. Long sentences are not well regarded because humans do not have time. They have programmed their machines to give them only enough to monetize. Popularize. No Christian sect was needed, just global warming and thirst: water for liquor. A forty-degree night in August at a thousand-and-something altitude. The city boiled. but that heat did not prevent him from making love to her. No. Instead, he wanted to be with her at the time of the end of the world. But the world would not end now. A little pretentious that it was like that. Their meeting was no coincidence. She searched for him. She should never have left him, but her pride was worse than her love, so it had to seem coincidental. He was watching her. I could have turned her down, but I wanted her forever, and yes, He loved her, and he loves her now again. In any case, the world was boiling, and putting more time into their separation was ridiculous. He was a lighthouse, and she understood his last signal. It was only one day, and the "coincidence" happened.

Popularity destroys humanity and guarantees an organization that blocks and does not allow progress. That popularity that makes knowing contributing to development guarantees a social ascent. But that popularity is created by the fears and hatred of the same society that is oppressed, follows stupid things, knowing that they are guilty. No, responsible for that decadence and oppression. That's why it has to be short and fast. Because the unbearable time makes them realize their mistake. And the worst thing is not the mistake, but to be exposed. Five minutes to Monday. She had found her place on that balcony. She thought about the look towards the coast, about the men that she simply received the money to survive with a smile. A little more sometimes if the smile included a sexual favor, but she didn't prostitute herself - she told herself. She hated to accept it, but she had fallen in love with him. And she hated that he loved her because she was going to leave him because someone offered better for her. It was the last night of August, in which they made love. Then, she would just in a week - to give her body and consciousness some time - she would send him a text message, but she didn't know if before or after giving herself up to her bidder. It doesn't matter anyway. She was sure that the man she was leaving would never stop loving her, making her cruel and stupid.

Pleasure is short; happiness is not. Monetization is short. Stability is that: stability. Like so many other things, like love itself, understanding, and purposes, not desires, which are short. Destruction is effortless, and construction is long. It implies a whole process in which it is shared many times, and more than competing, it collaborates. Loving implies time. Desire does not. It requires a conversation, the look, the caress, walking hand in hand, and those moments in which you decide whether you are loyal. That is love and commitment. Nevertheless, some have taken the trouble to read and write in the best of times. Not just follow and like. So, he finished reading that book and already had ten more to read, too many. He feared that the year would end and those waiting for books would not reduce that height as much as the songs he needed to listen to, the movies to see, or the women to love. No, life was not short, it just seemed that time did not reach him, despite his calm. Life is unpredictable. and in that wonderful unpredictability, he wanted to know and love: to live."