Gerardo D'Orrico - An Ash Ceiling

So today not everything is good, not everything has entered... don't say I told you so, the poison is like that, life is not eternal, how will you be able to go home without an angel, without eating and sleeping, without even understanding why you have been alive. We haven't all been there together but, one by one, don't hide the good Mr. Nobody, alive is let live. How many ways there are to die in these badly created ideas, only one to live, they never told us, these big modern heads, so continues even today, even if it seems a diminutive or an increased, that's how we live alone, or rather we continue in the impossibility of looking for a decent equation or, a Cartesian product that produces us, instead of an emotion other than love or, then an accomplice for evil. Maybe it's late so we don't have to complain, because it's already too much what we have, too much really, an exaggeration let's see... that product to eat in the kitchen says something, then the usual up and down the stairs, trying not to meet someone but, it's impossible, maybe we would have made the wrong year, you know they do it to everyone that use.

Whoever I made the mistake will leave him in the wrong, what he thinks he's making a basket, a hole. Here really there are only beautiful packaged products, only to use for a long time, so to say new, is then you cannot increase. What was doing a bad thing is not a basket but, only all the diseases put together in the vacuum or, what makes you lose the good from what I understood, a grown-up being who grows up is does not understand if not sometimes, if they then find that you have understood, they attack you so, until the pizzas and cakes are not finished, they are if not deserts, small things like all diseases, good appetite.

“To get out of a trap …” Bye , G.

To understand a good you need to be enrolled friend, but from this you need to be alive, that is, awake not asleep, then the sequel. Sometimes I am surprised to find myself in the future that is today, looking at the technology that I find myself, thinking the future really comes. What you're fighting for sure you win, a first problem is always to be able to stay there too, bodily to see it. Everything is over, so begins the theory of a better life, packable, consumable, because we are finished and completed drawings, theories that impress our day. Primitive drawings that gave the beginning, are the trace of a door to the future, a door that eliminates time, that opens the mind to an instant, without the perception of pain or feeling.

A good thing really happens, the image of our dream comes true. Without time, history opens up, without envy or evils of any kind. Find a common language or create a software, the basis of a speech is built in more or less human realities, in the memory of having had ancestors. Art is not suffering but, a part of liberation, because after suffering, I never liked the discomfort, no dilemma in general, to begin with the complications are a disaster, we have done what was necessary at least once a day, if then by habit you organize yourself is alive in the year zero seven, you can trust invest, do not fool yourself with those ideas, it is true that they liberate.

When the water will be finished I will take leave of absence, we do not suffer at all cumulative, we do not lack anything, it is just a blasphemous illusion of the world, you have done everything trustworthy, there is not twice as much nothingness in a human unit, at most it will be a small abrasion, then only fantasy or depression, there are no people not compensated for the day, to think about it well will be a person or, an object close to us that understands what we lack, they want to take away our future, the future, what we will do, is just another way to make us die in their place. How many wars, then peace does not exist, you have a stopwatch to understand since when what will not be or, is never. Problems are death lines, not having is still death, words that cannot be used, are the death of thought. Places where they make us stay is you can't say it, because nobody will believe it anyway, a classic. You suddenly see who is evil, where no one can say they have been, there are no places where you have been that you cannot say.

“What you have to do, it's called the future”. Is the end the beginning? Bye, G.

The exit doesn't exist... it's a key to solve our problems, to do only an inner study to find an exit. Together everything is more beautiful, to be is to think, say, do, kiss or die. When we are no longer there, don't look at us but at the part that was there. Power has always been a body, the mind a builder, now you don't know where it is going to lead, a fulfilment. Remaining in the good is the contact with all the things you have, a continuous flow of people in birth, makes us reborn in life, others live because you are a past, an adult, what you see is what you have produced.

The state is the good that wasn't there, what proceeds must be better than the things that don't work. The basis of human non-thinking is evil, the speech must be made away from the eyes and head, from a book or a sheet of notes, do not get confused about the position, even in the kitchen to bake means the elimination. We are goods of the world from that we are all in the world, an evil is a waste of time.

To go against good is to feel bad in person, a basic confusion. Continuing one must move-re, like if y moves from x infinitely, it happens that the equation is unsolvable. Communism is a dream, we are not all the same, so the state hasn't yet arrived at work or, an evil continues and it's all real, isn't it? the state is an incoming good, then you overcome it but, whenever it was. Here nothing is true, overcome to breathe is another reason, so if y is not x, another world can be reversed in concrete, then the rest is all a real fake, there is no imagination, there are people who 'the problem really have it.

Respect doesn't know what it is, don't even tell them, there would be no need. So the air has been cut into slices, there is almost nothing left, a question full of other people's problems, it is difficult to think about the reality of others. The cobweb is the taste of not being there, evil understands yes, everything is already ready what is needed, and what is not needed, what a bad world is ahead of us, the life that normally goes on, from today vote Craxi, where there is not, there will not be, G.

“The meeting's not happening, is it? There are forces that condition our main interest, the non-existence can be a denunciation of evil. The social sometimes, people confused with objects .”

What we have been is already enough to live and to laugh, as 'the future is the most beautiful fruit that life can give us. The air is tasted, the tastes and voices of people are new things that light up the senses, to the good fortune of meeting again or, if we have never seen each other, without the danger of falling is not to see anymore. Power is life, without rancour. I liked to abandon perdition for the belief, that false light and that rotting stench for life, the perfume, the smell. The memory of being finished, as it was before for the celebration of what it is today. Surprising me that the future exists, seeing everything reassessed, even myself. To live happily an accomplished tomorrow, the fresh and paid air, a slight burn in the brain that allows us to breathe, without the memory of those people who fly and talk badly. Free not to be there, living is not believing in the unhealthy fantasies of the whole world. People can be medicines or even sicknesses, the internet of humans is the truth that builds us, never throw away what you have earned with experience, it always serves. What we could do is only us, existence is like an object. To believe is existence, who believes exists. A small flight of bones, of flesh, of spirit, towards an intellectual security that takes the fruit of a healed body, because of him. Breathing the reality of a single thought, it is then difficult to make it concrete, as we were in the beginning, then a persistent catastrophe that does not go away, a stain that can no longer go away, we are all born, who arrives is lost.