To be as spontaneous as the uncalculated functions of life.
Could you be up to it?
Would you really?
Try me.
Free your mind...
My life is made out of words. My words. Their words. Everybody's words. But words for themselves are as good as anything else. Meaningless. Like every instrument they'll only serve as a mean for a purpose. To each its own. These are my words. And they could be your words. They wouldn't mean the same thing anyway. It only matters the matter you matter these matters.
Is it this? Is it that?
I'm more into the other actually.
I am blind.
I am deaf.
But still I feel.
The pixels of misinformation.
Write your pages.
And read other's.
Those who share their passions unfalteringly.