Punctuation is very strange as I see it.
The ellipsis make me anxious, yet I use them a lot, they give me that feeling of indefinite, of something to leave pending.
The two points are used to define and explain precisely, but I remain with the idea that you cannot always explain everything and, you know, to define is to limit.
The exclamation points are overbearing, like a cry, a firework, when they explode they make a lot of noise.
The question marks? Sore point, they are very dangerous. They leave you with only doubts and uncertainties.
There is the point. Definitely too final, it is always difficult to put a period, not to mention that sometimes you have to go to the head or even turn the page.
And then there are commas, I love commas.
After a comma, everything can change, or nothing can change.
Each comma is a breath, a brief silence between one word and another, a small pause.
The nuances mark out, and where there is a comma there is no end, there is no doubt, only the desire to continue.
At a certain point
You decide to be born.
And it is as if this childhood
It was an abuse, a compulsion
To live
A condition to undergo
But at some point you are born
Decide which side to take sides
Whether to redeem yourself or repent
Whether to live or die
Whether to open your eyes or flee
Why sooner or later
You will fall into the archaic trap
In the question of the questions
To which there is no answer
But only points of view
And if you think about it, it could be playing bingo
Or play an important role
The meaning of your life
I hope it will be paid
Your expectation.
Whatever it is
Why sooner or later
You will fall into the question of questions
To which there is no answer
But only points of view
And you will start thinking about your body
At the finite time that characterizes us
How there can be no beginning without an end
And it will be here that perhaps you will notice the hitch
How every day tribulations for small matters
Because in the face of the end we are like autumn leaves
And then you will use the most varied theories
You will believe the three maries
Maybe a deity who tells the faithful how to lead their lives
Perhaps you will find joy in a prophet
In the most complete anarchy
Or maybe you will believe in eternal darkness
But the point is that perhaps this is the meaning of dying
That of being able to start over
Once again to feel
Human.
Sometimes I would like to find an arrow indicating “free life”. I don’t know, maybe on the way to some woods, where the light filters through and the heat doesn’t kill you. A kind of guarantee that you will go and meet like-minded people there. People to talk to about everything but vaccines, governments and passes. Just talk to. A place you reach to express absolutely nothing, no opinion, no point of view on hundreds of points of view by now worn and tired. The only thing that sometimes matters is the need for sharing among similar people. Vibrate in the same tribe. Simply because it feels good to be together on the road. Stay in touch with someone who looks like you and isn’t afraid to hug. Talking without a muzzle, talking about good things, without someone having to convince the other and the other having to defend who knows what. Talk about what seeds you planted, what bullshit you did, the music you wrote or the love at first sight that got you. Thus, without having to find that prosaic meaning to the questions of living, the more you think about it the more they have nothing to do with Life.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 