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Cities ...

'm back. I got lost for a while ', or maybe I never wanted to take the road home, you may not know, I do not know.
I traveled to the short time available to me. Every night I run a few miles each night for each direction of the wind rose and sub.
I've seen things you people ... would have said the replicant Roy Batty. Instead, I will not say anything new, always the same things. The towns, villages, areas. Everything is in full compliance.
Every step seemed to replicate the previous one. Every action, even if done miles and miles away imitated the previous year. Previous. The first.
He had the feeling of being surrounded by the same people, the same speeches, the same stones. I have not explored that half of half of what already exists, but feel the conclusion to be reached. The weather follows a sinusoidal path, starts and restarts, and begins again.
I'm sure it had changed direction with every movement of the second hand.
I am sure you for visiting different places, as there are so many hours in a year.
But I've always the same front door, I saw the same old tired face of a coin that I am asked, I always met the same emaciated boy falling under the weight of the books that brings in the bag.

Now I decided to stop, wearily. Reach the goal. For a span of me a red ribbon. 'S the end.

What have I done? I only discovered the invariability of time and destiny. Futures made of cards already decided for us past and discoveries. The inevitability of the future and the past invaribilità.
And then we, in the present.
The journey is a continuous search for, look forward, learn more, see more. No one thinks to stop and understand unicum in fact a moment. Everything is running so violently in front of blind us from what we have now in our hands. The greed, the search continues for become what we want but we are not, we obscure.
become shadows, eager to acquire a consistency, if only for moments. A false consistency, without forcing. Consistency in the short term, which expires next of the moment, the moment we want to be anything else.

's why it will always remain shadows. Shadows cast on sheets of white paper.