Every bit of optimism has turned into criticism.
All the respect towards wisdom, towards sheer experience, is completely gone.
Almost all the modesty too.
All humanity.
There’s not much left inside.
The outside has an impennetrable wrapping.
Living tissue covering a metallic skeleton.
Might be soft by the touch.
Nobody ever tried it. Of course.
“So, you’re basically telling me that you act only based on intuition?”
“Yes.”
“And when your intuition completely fails, I mean, what if all your hunches go blank? What do you do?”
“Nothing. I do nothing.”
Another sure contender for the “Worst invention ever” prize.
I could (but not should) provide an example, but a simple visit to your favorite news source makes my point.
Alright, a description.
First, an offense to Johann Sebastian Bach’s La Bourée. Right afterwards, I noticed it would be kind of nice to use the last note to pull off Heitor Villa-Lobos’ Étude #1.
Thank you, Claire, for the compliments. I can do much better, though! I get nervous with cameras, last part was too “shaky” even for someone of my level :P
PS: Making frames with my fingers was completely unecessary, I know. But… so is life.
PS’: Girly, long fingernails on the right hand, and an obsession for the shortest possible fingernails on the left hand: not only helps a lot, it is necessary!!
Sailing on a sea of sweat in a stormy night?
I think he ain’t got a name but I can’t be certain…
And in me he starts to confide:
That my family don’t seem so familiar, and my enemies all know my name; And if you hear me tap on your window, you’d better get on your knees and pray: panic is on the wAAAAaaaaaaaay (yyyy)…
