Thou that never hadst the trust

Thou that never hadst the trust of giving me thy telephone number: When thou walk by the park and thou find a lonely man sitting beside a guitar, that seems to not have been played in weeks, drinking from a silver flask, do not run nor fear thinking that he is a vicious dangerous stranger… Remain tranquil, for he could well be not a stranger but thy vicious dangerous friend that did not achieve to invite thee to drink in the park because he could not call thee because he did not know thy telephone number.

In defence of the nones

Betwixt the white pointy acute house and the minipalace of granite hundreds of persons whose houses do not express the immigrant spirit nor the working spirit of a remote populace reside. Orphans sad or glad, or mere chaps ignorant of the history of their parents.

Between the Lebanese centre and the Catalonian association, there is a little park anonymous of «prosperous» «ethnic» neighbour communities. But that uncategorisable people, lacking colour, legend or gentilic, enjoys thoroughly the sublime pleasure that only a meadow with tress can provide. The no edifice with its no walls, its no halls, and its no offices; is there a better place for the no somethings?

Psychedelic perturbation


I enter the room, in which she is sitting on a black stool, waiting, with an appearance of curiosity, for what will happen. I told her that I had something important to give her, that I had found. A book, she must imagine, one more of those things, written by meddlesome and irrelevant third parties, to which she dedicates much of her time. She does not know that it is not a book, but I did not want to tell her what it was, because I thought that only by waiting for more of those quotidian objects would she come so close to the room, and wait there until she received something.

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