In a world of patterns i see me and i realize that there is not a right path fighting desires and fears i ask myself what am I going to think about everything in the end? one feet falls after the other without a purpose the floor is cold, I feel my body in the traffic parked, stagnant, inert but out of this mess, my mind is dreamy I move constantly, full of life each living being canalizes its pain somehow tries to express his image while passing through the landscape tries to find itself and understand that the universe is much bigger and there's no need to stress about it (maybe there is) contradiction suffocates me reflection opens the window (i see) of the mind and suddenly everything makes a bit of sense everything makes sense a little bit more they wants to regulate us society tries to fit us in their rules kill the week to live the end and in this small time that a few have the couch is the most dwelled place alienated, during the break, torture itself thinking about things no one really wants to think about they rather seem, than being buy your own paradox die to live, pretend to live and no longer have time to think about...