There are magnificent landscapes that my gaze will never encounter, experiences that my heart will never be able to reach, thoughts whose genius will escape me forever.
I am content with a corner of the sun hanging from a window, whipping despair with a zen blow, surprised to persist, stubborn, like those monks who, trapped in the jail of their conscience, focus their vision on a thin stream of light.
I look like those oxygen atoms that, expelled from the supernovas, sometimes are ruby, sometimes flood the planets. I am the whole universe and nothing at once. Living, unique, and insignificant.
I am an insect skating quietly on the surface of the water. A naked man plugged into his bed, into the Internet that challenges him.
I am a manifestation of life. And that still surprises me.