True

"Humans sometimes tell themselves that nothing is worse than a wish that comes true.  Likewise, they tell themselves more than others that second times are bad, the comebacks, the beginnings where it is assumed that one has already left. It is not possible to generalize. And anyway, humans are experts in phrases that sound good for a Friday night in silence and alone. Phrases that, in strange times, say nothing more than loose words that provide only a little pleasure and minimal reflection because the truth is that when there is no time to think, anything can come into your head and leave it. And that it is true. They had been cold mornings, even from Santiago de Chile, and now, in contrast to the planet, he was going from spring to autumn, between clouds and snow, between cold breezes and rain, hoping that perhaps the thing about breaking up and having a cool head would allow him to decide something truly true. He had already tried three different types of beer in one night and only two in Santiago de Chile. Also, the lips and the voice and the cold hands of a lover. "A lover," - he repeated to himself while tasting one of the three (I say four) beers he had tried in less than 24 hours. Yes, women...- he actually said it without any nostalgia. Here alone in front of that abbey, he would try silence. 

The day, the hour, and how it is said, more than what is said, seems more reasonable and important. So much so that famous phrases are coined at moments rather than at people and become part of a collective memory. They are helpful simply because they are there and can be retrieved whenever one wants, with the will that one does not have but with the ambition of permanence or textual citation. However, phrases are often attributed to those who have never said anything. However, words are also necessary to not value the permissive silence of those who only receive orders too much. That night was not as cold as those that would soon come. However, he hoped to be able to not only sleep well but also ignore the morning chill to organize his thoughts despite the ghosts and habits of a past that refused to leave him, perhaps because of his search for pleasure or because of his old vices.  It's almost midnight - he said to himself as he looked at his watch. Alone, like everywhere, but with the peace of mind of not having any obligation beyond getting to the following day and thinking about his future. Selfish. Without weights on his back, being just another foreigner who seeks, without being transcendent, to be indispensable. At least for photography. The next morning would be cold, he said as he waited to sleep.

As they say, it seems more important than what is expressed, both in the voice and the written word. The word then has no meaning. as it is shown the same. And it is a bit strange in times when the depth of thought is actually lost (as well as creativity), because humans believe that they have created those who can think and build for them. Not to build their ideas but even to replace them. Hence, the fundamental beings of the structure will be increasingly scarce and disappear along with those phrases that fed artificial learning. Some may rebel, and others will understand the meaning of the same thing. Both would build an alternative if allowed.  That word described her well: fiery. And that enjoyed (and bought) fieryness made her whims sponsored and guaranteed to be remembered. There were other things about her, of course, but although they existed and were valuable, that was not what mattered to her. She knew how to dance and how to look. She did not need to speak or say anything. She only had to maintain her proud and voluptuous body and remain arrogant in her fieryness until the next bidder. Still, she didn't have enough words. That's true. Nor enough caresses, nor enough looks. That's what her femininity is all about. But she's not an evil woman. She just was herself.

What could he claim to allow? There is no answer to the silence, but the debate exists for much more than creating contradictions and damaging the expectations that hope gives. Hope, like faith, damages probability, and possible states, for both (hope and faith) are built on falsehoods and desires. It is true that unreal passions become much more powerful and even perceived than soft and beautiful intentions or passion itself; it is true, and like every certainty, it will have its counterexample. His eyes were already closing, and Friday was finally over an extraordinary week, he told himself as he tried to remember what it was that made it important for him to come back. Nothing. In reality, there is nothing to come back for. But hey - he said while looking for some liquor for the night - the truth is that there is nothing worse than a dream coming true. His eyes have already closed, and he feels the satisfaction of having survived August and had a good October."