Four years ago I was in the rain in the company of my only love. I know you think of a woman but I will clarify that one loves the other person what he sees of himself: Idealism is to see fantasy y romanticismo en una muchacha cualquiera. El amor es una droga súblime y yo fui adicto a su muerte de mil besos y mis versos...
Buenos Aires octubre del 2006: Una tarde pasada por agua. Hermoso. Una plaza y un chico y una chica besándose. Un algo que se va lejos, muy lejos. Tal vez sea la inocencia. Lo que queda en nosotros es el sabor de los besos dados y recibidos. Se pierde el transporte público y nosotros en él (nos fuimos).
Un museo de bellas artes. Lindo. Pero el arte más excelso es el de la juventud amándose inmoralmente. Un chico que se olvida de su obsoleta religión católica; una chica que se olvida de que es una niña virgen sólo por tener trece años. Cosas que pasan. Caricias que van y vienen. No pasa more. Between that she is fourteen and he retains something of moral, as usual but the kisses are excessive and addictive for people as beautiful and vain. If these paintings speak! A picture is worth a thousand words and an evening of love and excitement is worth a thousand museums of art!
What can happen on a rainy day like today? Buenos Aires is a city of illusion. Love does not exist. Paris is a tale of sellers of travel packages. There. God does not exist. And I think I do not exist because no one has created man but the perversion of an animal that is believed more than he is. Rhetoric of the weak? I do not know, I know nothing. Just know that adrenaline and hormones make you deny your own human condition and your God and your country only to prolong the moment of brutal agony that is love itself. Ecstasy. Joy and euphoria are combined in a spectacular evening than there or in Venice or London. I'm so beautiful and it is what it is thanks to me!
I do not regret anything. I am patriotic and believe in God than in myself but a girl half Jewish daughter of a Mr. Stein is beautiful as the paradise that they sell the priests and the Marxists. Now, at this stage of my life, I renounced love for, as Schopenhauer says, is a trick of nature aimed at the reproduction of the species. Yes, I have twenty-one and giving up the love before he has experienced in its most profound: Love is like a drug because you are consumed, dries you and kill you addicted and dependent leave even after his death (nor has reason to be in the era of contraception and abortion).
all a lie in this world who is also a lie: Women and men lie lie to themselves. Everything is a lie: Lying is the father of my girlfriend who said one thing and was an agent of Mossad. That's why I hated ...
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