Some see time as something that will pass, and everything will improve. Optimism, as in a joke, is not revolutionary in times when faith and hope guarantee oppression. However, in the same joke, it is possible to think that useless mass (because it is not even useful for the oppressors) could be the perfect accumulation of desires so that at least, being there and recognizing their frustrations, they accompany those who have decided to rebel. They are not expected to think about anything beyond their own selfishness. But yes, that by accompanying this oppression, they will soon cease to exist. Their life. It is life. Life, that life simply will not even be a memory since they have been taught to forget just the same. Uselessness, like stupidity, can favor consciousness because it is the majority, not ignorance. They, the imbeciles, know, and yet, between their pettiness and fear, they receive those exhausting cries that generate hyperviolence. The ignorant can always learn and expect liberating actions from them if cultural decadence does not turn them into idiots. He couldn't see anything, and although the fall was very strong and he didn't understand why he couldn't balance himself, he understood the relationship between his sight and the surroundings. The wind, the snow, and the empty space that surrounded him. A few meters ahead, he saw his glasses spinning in the wind; he approached as best he could, retrieved them, and put them on. He laughed. They were completely covered in frost. He glanced at the thermometer on his wrist, which read -8°C. Leaning back slightly, he listened to the sound of the wind while cleaning his glasses with whatever he could find. He didn't feel scared, but he did feel cold. So, when he stood up and began to slide again, he could already see the tip of his board after descending about five hundred meters. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed since his fall and about three since he resumed his descent. The good thing about not being able to see, he said, was that the speed was maximum. But he could see again, and although the wind was still strong, the cloud cover had dropped to two thousand eight hundred meters, and now, at two thousand two hundred, he felt satisfied. Alone. But satisfied. Life—he said—life, that life.
In all this, the thinking minority believes deconstruction is impossible and is time for a rupture. But the rupture is uncomfortable for the majority, hence their staunch defense. It is about comfort, not community, even when certain words are used. They are demonized and go against the efficiency of thought and the silence imposed in the face of programmed noise. So, without optimism, what could there be to think of as a humanity that fights (not resists) decadence? Without a doubt, the consequences of a reflection are based on knowledge and not superstition. An individual who does not think remains more selfish and understands that as a human being, he is a community-based, social, and thinking person. She had understood too late that he loved her. And even more so now, that he really loved her, because that love had remained in that past time, not now. While she was simply useful for desire. How many years? Many. And he had realized that, despite everything, he had already noticed that time was transforming his body and mind. What will become of him?. But asking herself these questions went against what she had labeled as emancipation, even though it was really a transaction between her body and the men who had provided for and sponsored her. She didn't try to talk. This year's man was only interested in her orgasms, moans, and ejaculations in her chest. Not listening to her. Occasionally, he would show her off, and while she was at home, he would look for another lover until she got tired. But his words? Maybe to worship or ask him for money and feel like he possesses her. In the past - it was said - how they sought my voice and marveled at my way of talking about the world.
That crowd will be helpful at some point, like the mountains that are a wall and defense. Ideas and history will create, and ultimately, like someone who thinks of destiny, life will prevail. At the same time, humanity itself (which will live) will find it challenging to save itself despite the apparent decline foreseen just a few years before. It is not an obvious question, no. But it is about that intellectual minority and those who want to learn, find a way to communicate, and achieve prevalence and transcendence. Optimism may seem like a joke, but the truth is that all this evolution and the construction of a civilization cannot fall under the fire generated by the stupidity of simple popularity. Mankind, in its pride and arrogance, loves life and being able to contemplate it. It wants to transform and emancipate itself, despite those who say it destroys as a species, and that is not true. It is the individuals and not the whole of humanity. He had slept like he hadn't been able to for a long time, but wasn't it a good idea to do so at the end of time? He thought of her scent. Of her scent, not just hers, but of all the scents he had ever encountered in his life. And then he remembered how that scent had become the taste of his lips and his body. He shuddered. And then, upon receiving the aroma of coffee, he thought it was time to transform that scent into taste. And he took it to himself. And drank it."
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