The banality, the complete devotion to entertainment and not the thought, the common description of something that we know well and we know that can never be as represented. That's not the good guys win. The hero is a hero if you do not lose out pens. That you can not fuck the surrounding reality and alter relations established by nature. And even those few times that it was possible there would be no bright lights and trees in bloom to brighten the moment, but clouds and tears, wounds difficult to treat. And even if we could do it, leave eternal scars. Nature does not win and when it does, the curse with all the saliva that remains. The cars run, the lights turn red and green intermittently fixed and you can not do anything. You can go with the red risk that they remain dry and consuming so much wind they just get across the river you are forced to slow down and annulling the chance just turned. I do not want an avatar, I do not want new legs. I want to run as they are doing bleeding feet to walk on thorns of fury. I want to break her back banging on the ground after flying as far as missing the air with the power of thought. I want to fight the enemy without a strategy or an ally, without grand speeches and rites. I want to fight hard-nosed with what I have inside.
He was there two seats from me and did not need 3D glasses to capture its beauty
