Thousand

And assassin of love has been in the night, waiting for redemption waiting for hope, missing the ancient past, looking for a place to be. One rose told him something dubious but is just my imagination, nothing more can be. The dawn is waiting for me, one paper, one letter, one signature is in my present, a ticket travel to an other city. Waiting for a answer, asking questions and getting more questions than answer. That is funny because is the form to gain knowledge. Until know I am trying the best I can. But is not enough not for the society because they prefer a easy live.

I am not a superhuman as she wants in the past.

I am not intelligent as the people thinks. I'm just a bastard a dreamer with a great imagination. who was trained with unnecessary skill for this society, and for this time. Dreaming in a world with ...

0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144 233 ... They are just numbers for me and art for others, a succession for the mathematicians. The world do not have absolute thing all are partials. The pain for me could be pleasure for other ones. But the knowledge is universal we need to learn we need to find answers to this world, to problems that surround us. We can not adjudicate to another thing or another person we need to solve it. I need to find my reason to live because this state is so painful, missing the sextant of my live waiting to find my own polar start.