Gran Enigma del Alma

  The night was very dark. There was a Twilight scent in the night the sky,  The inky blackness of the night, a canvas devoid of stars  looking very dark. However, it  was broken by an eerie glow. It wasn't the soft, familiar light of the moon, but a pulsating, otherworldly illumination that seeped into every corner of the sky.  The lights started showing up everywhere, in the sky. La noche estaba muy oscura. Había un acento de Crepúsculo en el cielo, La negrura como la tinta de la noche, un lienzo desprovisto de estrellas luciendo muy oscuro. Sin embargo, fue interrumpido por un resplandor espeluznante. No era la suave y familiar luz de la luna, sino una pulsante iluminación de otro mundo que se filtraba en cada rincón del cielo. Las luces empezaron a aparecer por todas partes, allá arriba. Different lights that looked like there were living bacteria in the sky, doing synchronized movements all at the same time.  Tiny, iridescent orbs, like bioluminescent ...

  Decisions, decisions   This doesn't come from that place, not for the place of deciding, not from the place of anger or certainty, nevertheless from the place of undecisiveness. I've always been very impatient with undecisive individuals as life for me has always been a matter of decision, on the one hand the train of consequences attached to deciding what to do, when and where, and on the other, the missing forecast involved on not deciding something, what if, what would, what have you, but the case is not always black and white. We have several things that determine the kind of decisions that we make and define why we make them, nevertheless some of us, cannot or will not take the pertinent decisions based on fears, anticipated anxiety or simply the tangential facts that intertwine us to some person, situation or aggravating fact of life that we decide that -blocks- us from dwindling with facing our own self existence in deciding. Lovewise, we should certainly se...

  We apply religious inputs as to what, when, where and how we'll get to a point where we want to be, in many senses, nonetheless we play with this concepts as if we could stretch time forever.... Time, beneath the eye of the beholder, as in "the effort that you dedicate to..." whereas one year of mask is nothing but the fair equivalent to a horse's orgasm, well, it had to be said. We create religious input, for we need to feel that someone or something will come and "save us", we need to feel that we are not alone in this universe, multiverse, how do we call it now a days? but it's been always about Chimera and Bastet, has it not? How or why do we pretend, we can atone to what time is? Once the welder saw it for what it was, he understood that the spark was very low proficient on telling the amount of time required to accept, love, or should we call it, her? Let me try to explain the situation. As ugly as it might sound, no matter how painful something ...