Why Do My Legs Burn When In Bed?

...

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Official closing of the Air Universe

We are alone. The interaction we have with our fellow human beings is nothing more than fiction, because to be significant as prone to a variety of meanings, to speak more than one language is more than plausible. Despite this phenomenon, human beings come to agreements to be social beings, we need this interaction and usually people get together to build one than anything else. This phenomenon (the possibility of communication between people) call it the Air Universe.

The Universe Transmission is a world that needs some rules to exist, but which is implicit in any interaction between two people. When I talk to someone, usually I rely on abstract examples or concepts to convey my idea. The person who picks up this information, decodes it, but using their own codes, their own notions of the words I used. Let's get agreement provided that such notions encompass a common structure, ie when a certain field of the notion that I have to convey ideas match those of the other person. For example:

Issuer Like Me the chocolate pudding of

Receiver

Within the message there are three words that have a display abstract to understand the message. For the sender and the receiver, the three words have a dimension that goes beyond the meaning of each, and used to encode or decode the message. In both processes there is a trap, as the pudding is not coded in the same way it is built, therefore the relations (syntagmatic calls) vary causing disagreements, which are implicit, the words take on this character but is blocked and rare Once both communication partners notice it. Thus, for both the three words have connotations different

	Transmitter Receiver
Gustar	nice light to an object. sensuous pleasure causing	Value pleasure-taste. Sex-pleasure relationship.
Pudding	sweet dish usually served for dessert.	Dessert , which has a watery texture.
Chocolate	exquisite taste found in Latin	Chocolate = aphrodisiac poop color.

raised this point, assuming that the recipient is a person with certain psychological disorders and traumas of childhood, we assume that for him / her sex is something dirty, but it takes into account long believed that all people who approach him seeking potentially so (ie happens, it is not so rare in reality). Then this receptor, gathering all these words syntagmatically and fetched a deduction may think that your transmitter you are very delicately hinting he wants to have with him / her a coprophilous relationship.

We know, however, that communication is indeed possible, and that this case-if it were to occur, would be extremely rare. But that person A will head passes all these ideas (though not revealed due to the codes of communication) is more plausible. How many times we ideas that everyone is against us or assume that someone has something against us out of nothing?

Communication between two thinking beings is thanks to the Universe of Transmission. This world is a series of codes devoid of almost all personal connotation and adopted as a collective subjectivity. When a teacher makes us this picture:

know which is the sun. Why? By convention, by similarity, the position he takes in the board, etc. These are data that have implied to communicate. We all know that is a sun, but there is no real reason for us to look like the sun, is just an imaginary sun and perfect, more real than the sun we see every day because it communicable.

The Universe of transmission is composed of the sun at its most basic form, and all objects that remind us to think only of the object itself, not the layers of paint that we have given for all our lives. This language is not ours is a language of the same nature as comes implicit and without it no civilization could exist as the only vehicle interaction

is why, in the example above, although there is a receptor crazier with some approaches so rare, their reaction maximum, will be something like: "No, I do not like." Because we know this world is not only social rules, but less artificialised language and more concrete. If we could communicate only through these codes would not have even a single misunderstanding. We would be a major biological computer.

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mom's wrist

Carmen comes and goes, comes and goes, comes and goes in the swing of half-past five o'clock. The yellow sun knows Carmen dust while up and down, and watch them to see it distorts everything so fast, the faces are elongated, and the sun line awkwardly through their eyelids. Berta, the new maid looks at the strange girl Carmen, which is balanced without rhythm, no harmony.

- I see red, blue, yellow ...

Berta
viewed from a safe distance, while the park itself increasingly alone and the only sound accompanying the oxidized metal crunching up and down with the girl, is a treacherous and delicate puff of air. He tells the little that it is time to leave, her mother is waiting.

- I'm not a girl Berta, I can not be a gift from my mom.

Kids stuff, maybe think Berta, or maybe not. His face was deliberately the term to Carmen, to the void, but there was misrepresentation in his pre-prepared expression, Who wanted to fool with his gesture, the wind, the swing or the girl who just looked at her askance, playing with the speed of distorting her gaze encouraged by the swing. "Come on girl, do not be silly, you are not mom's wrist," said the maid Berta.

- Why play with me, and I put all this makeup and spends watching me?

The wind blew strong and a cloud covered the sky. This was perceived at least Berta, watching Carmen rocked with increasing speed. Thought yes, the makeup for a girl her age was exaggerated, that all those doll clothes was a fantasy. Berta but Carmen did not want to disturb, so he said in a calmer tone: "But I should like your mom has so much affection and likes to play with you. And small, come on, do not get unruly. "

- I do not want my mom and me play! Besides, I never wanted to be a girl.

"I do not talk nonsense!, Carmen, come here!" Berta began to heat up, although it was not hot. The park was alone, and neither the wind came up that yellow grass and immutable. A cold sweat began to furrow the brow of Berta. "You have to be proud of being a girl"

- I do not want, no I do not want!

Berta had to take a swing for that horrible screech stop tormenting, Carmen took the waist and under the seat. She squeezed his wrist heavily Berta and he seemed to hear a thunder in the distance. As she took the doll and began to leave the park said "Leave such as tantrums, you'll see how when you grow up you will have liked a girl, they begin to bother the kids."

- Berta, I only went because my mom she wanted a doll, I did not want to be a girl.

"No dear, dear God you're a girl because they wanted to." The maid began to see the poor girl began her tears to the eyes. Berta, without knowing why, she began to tremble, something bad was happening, all told him that.

- wanted Diosito What hurts me so much?

Berta stopped walking and stood like a statue. He must have thought something like "I knew something bad happened in that house, and took an air right now all evil, this girl someone did something, I know." Looking at the girl, pretending to fear with a look of tenderness was put in front, bent down and his hands surrounded in a loving gesture Carmen's face. Very carefully asked: "Why say you hurt? Did anyone hurt you? "Carmen, as though possessed by a strange frenzy in the middle of the sidewalk (which was devastated by the way) took off her underwear and lifted her skirt:

- It hurt a lot when my mom who took the pipisito and made me a woman.

The sun came out just then, before hiding this time until the next morning.

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neo-neo-Platonic Dialogue 1: Omitting freedom

walked by one of the great avenues, of those who have named the date of founding or independence of the city. It was four o'clock and went barefoot. My friend (think of a subject's middle class that neither study nor work because it is in the middle of doing something that never starts but only leaves) told me recently that I put the shoes, you do not know that there may be on the street and I can hurt me.

- We are not trained to walk well, you have Supercall to protect you from nails, glass and stuff.

Before my shoes as we were childish and child-were talking of freedom (here ends the issue of freedom). I put them on and I said that asphalt is just flat enough to walk barefoot. We walked up Juan's house, my friend, where we would recover the dream of a day turned into night, but never ceased to be the same day, even now, beginning to be updated again.

Can you imagine what would happen if we ask the right question? I asked, hoping that this is:

- do not know. Depends who want to know.

just wanted to know if that was the right question, and it was not. I hate to think that not being able to express things in the most fertile I'm lost in this world of fictional realities. Fictional realities because, as my uncle, we invent the reality. When I said, I do not take it seriously, it sounded like a dream life is or time is money, things despite never know them we do not understand.

We stopped walking down the main street and we go through a smaller, do not take much, so we're fine. The silence is so relaxing after all that noise. I wear shoes.

Well, what was that? Ah yes, my uncle of false realities. He had always little thought to the possibility that everything we see is nothing but a representation, but this time I took his words seriously, because I was examined again how fickle we have to learn. Everything is a process, and within these processes we associate elements to understand phenomena. This gives rise to theories. Theories are very funny, John, do you know why the theories are somewhat funny?

- I think ... I think because I do not work in real life.

Yes, exactly. What you're saying sounds as the river is the time and bird in hand is better than a hundred flying. However, according to my theory (not mine) I will refute the theory itself. We are in the open, we need to sustain something. What we have on hand are our senses and experiences through which we passed. From these experiences, science is created, which is an ordered set of knowledge. But this science is based on assumptions and analogies building empires ending ideas, called paradigms which are nothing more than a point of view. The views we use to describe and measure the whole universe.

- Yes, but remember that different paradigms have a limited operating range, as well as psychoanalysis, monadic quantification, and football. By the way did you see the game last night?

"No, I saw, who won?

- I do not know why you ask, well here we are.

nice, and it lacks little to sunrise. I'm so tired I think I'm going to collapse here in the middle of your couch ... Too bad! Are we prisoners of our bodies, too?

- If not on this side are free, do you see?

(Here goes again, the issue of freedom).

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The painted porch

going over and over again how short our lives are the only way to get some sort of motivation for wanting to do something with this very narrow issue of existence eventually have. Humans, as ants, trying to build a large colony in which only left our well-know bit. The Stoics were a group that built myrmex very lucid ideas, from my point of view, for its time.

can say that this school approached with firm steps, in what would later become the empiricism of Locke. The representation cataleptic, of which they speak, is the printed representation of a particular object in our understanding. From this view, the Stoics are almost saying that people only receive impressions of that object, and we understand from our senses, beyond conjecture only.

course, the Stoics, with Berkeley subsequently denied the existence of the object, what would also be a clear indication nominalism, that is, deny the reality of an object in itself. According to other interpretations, as Cicero an analogy exists with respect to the representation cataleptic and the real existence of the object:

He (Cicero) compared open hand and fingers extended to representation pure and simple hand against which act to hold, the agreement, the closed hand in hand, understanding cataleptic. In short, both hands tightly on one another is the science, which gives a true and complete possession of the object. [1]

The empiricist criterion of the Stoics, where the idea to our mind as a tabula rasa (our mind is like a blank sheet of paper, and our thought is constructed through perceptions, not perceptions, we could not think), also emanates a future point of view philosophy and psychology abroad.

His conception of the cosmos is also curious and remarkable between waves which were planted at the time. Heraclitus took wing idea that everything flows (pantheism), and everything is set up by an active ingredient which is the cause or God. What I find most interesting is the idea that the world is cyclical. There is a time when all the stars return to the site where they were at the beginning and after a big explosion, everything returns to happen again.

This is an outline of what would be the amazing idea of \u200b\u200bNietzsche on Time (The Eternal Return), a theory that seems to be very close to or passing in the universe, seeing it from a completely deterministic view. Too bad that when things happen again is intended to do the same things as always, I can not give advice to my future self, because any loophole in the world left behind may be burned in the conflagration before it all starts again.

The ethical side of the Stoics call me a little less attention to "live according to nature." Although the Stoics give freedom to man despite having a doctrine based on causality, I think it was necessary to say that there is no middle between right or wrong, just to encourage us to turn to virtue.

---

[1] Abbagnano Nicholas History of Philosophy, Workshops typographical Ariel, p 144

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Am know the other side? Stations She

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The continuing need
can not be drowned in a glass of water that is consciousness.
why do you write? Ovid
say in the spring of illusion
that to achieve immortality.
What I can achieve immortality I?
In the stage of burnt matches,
when faces are intractable
and sadness blurs the boreal certainties.

A yo often disguises
representation of the same I do, but no body.
why do you eat?
Tertullian said in the summer of
faith that it is sufficient unto itself. I can
What faith I have?
When dogmas are themselves absurd
holes
have been violated and the criminals are completely extinguished.

I painted the void and what is not deep
was just being a black man.
why are you?
Kant said in the autumn of our cadence
or represent that the false is real.
What I can I reach there?
interfered in practical optimism,
(democratization masks)
and exploitation of effervescent whims.

are biting barking
evading the gates give way to discouragement.
Why the word? Voices
said in the winter of extinction
I am a mixture of gene and circumstance.
How could she be the self?
In this
signs written only what sells ...
And I can not sell the floor.

223 Rifle Hunting Michigan

on a summer night

up his hand and drop the red petals. Skims the flower, it from the mold, near the yellow house. And in the dead water source drops of blood fall. "Girl what are you doing up? Nothing

nana watching the petals float in the source.

The columns supporting the old house, so far in fact, are thick and seem to think marble thousand winters. In his eyes wet wood drops reflected landscape. It's a beautiful summer night. The lighting is yellow moon is so bright it leaves a golden crust, which bathes the old garden. What do you think girl?

nana in anything, I'm going to bed.

- I am sad, I want to fly away, breathe a new air and take care of myself, down through the roof and watch the lonely man lying on the beach. Poor man, he lives alone. I gave him some company, I caress in this beautiful summer night. I leave this old town and its broad plaza, forget the Evon and acacias.

The clock face illuminated by the full moon strikes midnight. You hear her singing in the distance. She pretends to clean up her skirt, skirt the color of dead rose. Freckles not exist on this summer night and gaze pierces the delicate breeze. Are you coming my child? Stop thinking about that wretched wanderer. "Girl, you coming?

If nana. My body goes.

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A man from out of the blue

(tribute album Time Machine Alan Parsons)

Narration by Professor Frank Close

When you look out into the night sky, and you see the stars far away, you're seeing them because of the light that has travelled from them to you.

But it takes time for the light to travel here. So what we're doing is seeing the stars as they were in the past, in the amount of time it has taken for the light to reach us. The further, and further away the stars are, the further back in time we're looking.

Now we're seeing a star that, let's say, is 6,000 years ago. Imagine somebody on that star looking at us. They Would Be seeing us as we where 6.000 years ago.

Which of Those Two is "now"?

Are So space and time linked together. We are looking across the space, We are looking back in time. 1

What would you say to someone who I can only see its past? Imagining that light could say anything, I'm addressing something that no longer exists, and I see the other side think the same of me, which no longer exist. And know that in fact there is a future and Built in us the moment we are seeing.

is assumed that, if we could see from anywhere in the universe, what part of us would? The light emitted from 6000 years ago may be being planned at this time in another place, that is, our past becomes their present, and this multiplied by the infinite places that can be observed, we find that what is happening this second reprized is infinitely into the universe, where time and space are mixed and stirred, making it impossible to distinguish at infinity. How can you pass something if everything is happening at the same time?

A man from out of the blue

Walking a lonely road, static, always everywhere. The man is not covered by the blue sky is a silent watcher who has seen it all and still does not know anything.

So follow the call

To Our senses

Still There's Hope

Behind the fear

's all you can whisper this man who looks to be out and We emphasizes that does not belong to that realm that covers us all. Alan Parson longer he ceases to be a human being to abstract and wonder, where is the hope? Behind the fear behind what we human.

quines A call to live by their words or actions

No one ever Lived A Thousand Years

Things Not like we do or say

"Call up" tribute to the symbolic life. We do not live, are our words, our actions. We give life and feed the others. What would the human race if people brought their wisdom to the grave?

So we call all those people who have changed the world and ask you to help us change the world once again, that's the idea. But if we look closely, all of them: Einstein, Darwin, Newton, Da Vinci Luther King Gandhi Jesus live. And they live in their words, showing that their names are only references, his legacy is printed within the collective unconscious that brings us to where we go.

Stop being a one to be a whole!

To learn, we must observe, transform into letters which tells us the wind, water, sun, encode human, and explain things we can not understand. We were one once, now we are many, but we can not feed from each other (from biological to spiritual), and finally, we are one:

We are all of one nation, all of one creed

We are all out of nature, all of one seed

We are in this together, man, woman and child

So open your heart to the call of the wild

And for those who think we're the head of the evolutionary chain (head of the chain), you'd better see ourselves as the prodigal sons of nature, we think we know everything, but we are alone, we believe we can with our lives, we own our actions, when Mother Nature really is what guides us with a good hand to our return to her. Finally could say "Ignorance is bliss" and wait quietly May One day the tide turn and wash away your castles in the sand, and silence rule the land.

Press Rewind ...

Wait, did not hear the song well, could you rewind to this time to listen better?

Well, it can do, but what we can do is pressing the button to go back and try to change our lives. What would you do if you had five seconds of grace each day to repeat something that went wrong? Five seconds seem very little, but that "little" time could be really invaluable.

A flash of second sight, a chance to do it right
Is Something money just can not buy

Things to think from time to time. For example, something that certainly we turn everyone at some point, but it is worth recalling in this ride in "The Time Machine", will observe a moment in his pocket, having it out there and every once in a while:

The hours

Are slipping away Still I try to hold Them Them in time and freeze
Believing So leave me here again We'll Meet
Promise me some kind of sign

...

This trip is sandwiched between two transports purely instrumental listed under the name of the album. That concludes this tour through the vagaries of time. Who would not blame rewind to never having read this post, but consumed every second I dedicate this album.

---

1 All that is in italics and English is quoted album Time Machine Alan Parsons

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By this time, going to be beautiful which to me please. My wife is not going to represent the holy animal-dimensional paper, ie not going to drop roses in his footsteps and will not roar like a lioness wounded. My clothes will not pretend to deem an almost aesthetic canon which has no place whatsoever, will not be made nor will sacred worms caress my skin. My dog, this is not going to be scary, it will not become a threat or a false mask of my manhood.

I'm going out for a walk down the street without disguise it without spraying enchanted forest and an ideal temperature. I pretend to be walking without hurry, and I will try not to pretend to walk to my wife and my dog, I will accept that just walk through. Walking down the street, no I will assume an identity because really I have not, I'll be trying to look ahead, because I do not look down when someone comes near me. Actually, I want the left-eye on this occasion to signify.

I'll cross the street and enjoy it when other men look at my wife, because I enjoyed it because I enjoy it every day and because she is not mine, only seems to belong because who knows, for some reason wants to be me. I do not want to dig into the ground, I imagine that superficiality is not enough but to assume that the depth is as perfect as necessary, and weaves networks where innocent way representing myself as someone who pretends to be innocent.

This output will be different, because I will not be another, I will not be a disguise, do not want to dance the rhythm of the culture. I die a little thinking that I'm different. And it's gonna be beautiful what I want, because transparency will invade and I will let little I have. I consume, red and even blue. Take off my clothes, will release the leash of my dog. After that terrible, will release the hand of my wife.

The release him in that order, but want the chaos seem more hesitant to hierarchical structures and false. Let loose the dog that it is free for not knowing one, but everything. And then let it go to my wife who is anyone in this story because I am not anyone to invade personality. She will, I just let it go Beware of adorning of roses or unnecessary adjectives. I hope forgive me the lack of symbols, but have to know that I am one, so I'm alone.

And through the spaces filled, I would not sell freedom, but accedes without price (priceless) to consumers of air and seconds. I stopped counting my steps and circumvent the faltering mathematical vacuum. This time will be different, life will be beautiful because it symbolizes being beautiful. It is perfect because it does not matter that I disintegrate in my way into nothingness, life will continue, as has always been perfect.

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This time will be different want an issue (brief tour of masochism)

I

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The tragedy of lean men slip

Legend of the ancient Quiché who on earth inhabited by men of wood. Lean men devoid of all grace, and grace as if you have any relationship other than phonics with the power of gratitude, were also devoid of it. Both deficiencies were something the gods or animals, or objects of daily use, could tolerate.

wooden men despite having the talks, had no understanding. Multiplied, it gave stick between them, but it turns out it was romantic. These men lived a long time, but their limited intellectual faculties led them to perdition. Well, what led them to destruction, really, was the terrible mistake of not remembering to praise their creators. Not that the gods were vain, what happens is that they were very hungry and lazy, so they needed someone to feed them. Poor

beings completely dried blood that had not toured the veins. Should be so stiff that should never have a chance to dance orgies. Had fun taking out splinters and burning between them. They were racist, because those who were made carbon were marginalized. Ah, worst of all, they had to wait to die to be able to play football. Most

Curiously, the relentless death that awaited them as being defective products. First, the typical Jewish vengeance: the flood. What the gods did not realize is that, obviously, were of wood. They floated slowly through the water, cooling and sailing as any English privateer. The gods could not contain their anger, so they sent four beings who specialize in torture:

Xecotcovach .- Expert in the extraction and suction. He had a special hose hooks on the edges. Its function was to empty the eyes of men suits.

Camalotz .- With the sharpest knives in the realm of the gods. Camalotz not mince words, he came right to cut off head.

Cotzbalam .- The Hungry chubby group. His mission was to devour the flesh, but being of wood, had many problems with the chips.

Tucumbalam .- The most sadistic of all. Not content to see them slaughtered, with no eyes and half-eaten, each of the crushed bones and shattered his nerves. (That is, despite the lack of many physiological elements, these earlier versions of men, at least not without the ability to feel pain.)

Well, nobody wanted to miss the party. First came timidly small animals and began to nibble on the leftovers of this legendary race. Then came the big animals and almost to dust what little was left of them. What's more, the end came all the tools (the grinding stone, sticks, pots) and started complaining about how badly they had been treated. The finished stone grind, the suits have given their lives to burn completely in the pan, which went up in smoke and disappeared at last! of the earth.

say that survivors of the slaughter are now called monkeys. Although this the Popol Vuh not seem very safe, I do.

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I raised my eyes searching for something and I first saw you slip, and that I was not looking. I could not believe, came right into my hands, dancing, you were so white that it seemed as if you had fallen from space, dancing like you came to me, and anything else that I had spotted earlier. I thought myself lucky then, I no longer feel it was any one, if he had a name in the universe, a name you granted me through all the hazards.

I could not believe what you were white piece of paper, not a grain of sand, not a ray of light had left no spot in thee. So I decided to look after you, protect you so you do not stop being one, and so do I, do not cease to be someone. I walked very carefully, jealously hiding you Eye strangers, you circled the park where you found it, but keeping you when the cold wind came we watched in silence as envy our happiness. I say our piece of paper, because this whiteness yours could not mean something else, do you?

The sun was falling and I was content to look at you, at least initially. You had too much energy, and I do not know if I could deal with it. While you were with me, yet I had, I knew you were not anybody, and your radiant beauty was confirmed. I began to fear that this meant that I was nothing more than a casual stop for you. So began my desperate piece of paper, had to know I was just as important to you at least wanted to know if you had noticed me. I held you then and you high into the sun. It was the first time I looked through you. It was amazing, I can remember perfectly all that light passing through you, your body translucent seemed only to improve the quality of light that was also the first time you talked to me.

closer to the sun, also had another effect in that moment I felt terrible. A dust storm was coming and I just noticed. Suddenly all the land surrounded us and although I instinctively took refuge in my chest, had been too late. Were stained by dust, and I could not feel more responsible. I do not remember if I dropped a tear, but at least you would not know because I hid my face from you. What if you had stopped dancing? You looked so happy doing it! Now I felt so embarrassed, I was responsible for get dirty and now you were with me, of removing a name both in eternity.

But what mattered the name in eternity? Lot, until I realized something that was even more important. When I dared to look at you again, I saw all the land he had left in your body forms, and I realized they were oddly shaped but said a lot. That's what I had made the world now that you were with me, and I know that you really enjoyed, and I liked it too. But what really made me happy, that's what I was talking about, that my name was removed from eternity, but in return, I noticed a curious pattern in your area: my track had been impregnated thank you dust.

Can you understand the joy I felt seeing that I was in you slip? Importing the Universe with a capital, the sun slowly fell, the stars have not yet deigned to appear ... I was in you, like me you were in some way, but I could not express the same way that you did. That feeling was very strange, I was lucky but I was also cynical and rejoice in your dirt, anyway, I'm the one who stained your uniform for the first time, were you under to stop dancing to be with me?. I do not know if I would have spotted one in my place, but I think so. The important thing is to see your new forms, recorded dust and dirt, give me a clue that you had made me happy.

The sun was so close to disappearing, and the wind began to march a thousand winged soldiers at that time, I faced a dilemma. I was close to my chest, I was wrinkled by the pressure exerted, all with the so that no invisible army snatches me. The problem is that if you do not see, hardly knew what you had to say. The light would disappear suddenly and she could not communicate with you. So I decided to take to the sun once again, although I expect what would happen.

light orange, almost violet, passed through your body, with the taste of death that resembles life as never before. That bright and lit you crossed all your forms in a new way. I never saw more beautiful piece of paper, but never saw you at the same time, so far from me. The wind began to blow even stronger and I felt very afraid of losing, so the decoding what you told me I had to squeeze through violence, you wrinkles and I broke up a bit. A deep sorrow came over me and this time do not hide my tears. A corner desperately yours moved with the wind. Everything conspired to tell me the obvious, I had to let go. Then the first stars appeared in the sky and I noticed your unbridled love for dancing was something she could not control.

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The new Hamlet *

Son

Now is the time when your destiny as a member of this community will be met. Since this time partially frees you to set and found a new village that bears his own name and which will be more than a father. Came one of the most important moments of your life, and I know I know you accept the mission as entrusted to us all.

I know that in the time you read this letter you will feel confused, alone and lacking in many things. All I can do is give you strength and believe in you, albeit an archaic, if only as a game irrational. Do not trust you just because statistics say so or because they have taken all necessary precautions. I believe in you because since you were born I found a spark that will light tireless springs from within, and because even though they are new living being, found in you the wisdom to carry out the task entrusted to you.

I will not waste empty words giving technical details about how you will do your work for that and you will be awarded. I, instead, I give you a vision of what life and that only time will understand. Life is a given time, a space fight, a fire that is burning the surrounding world. Just watching you'll realize how wonderful life is to watch grow and how it feeds on itself with an infinite energy. Even death is beautiful, not only to be necessary but it is a step of generosity to those around you. So too, will happen at some point, and as I did with you, giving up your life to someone else to take your place in a new world.

not afraid to suffer for eternity or get killed. On the other hand, you will realize how necessary it is to stop there, watching under your benevolent gaze all try to harmonize and create chaos. Creatures that are sprouting up become stronger and will grow slowly, increasing their capacity and at some point, their understanding of the world. You'll like the time in which evoke childlike start and give your name, thanks to fear and admiration, things that do not understand. You will be given many names by the way, and not understand who you are until the end of time ...

Start a planet is our justification to the existence and inescapable duty to take into account how wonderful it is. If we are endowed with almost all the answers, yet there are millions of questions can be answered only in the imagination, and there are millions of questions that only understand when you see your creation struggle, unaided, to the vagaries of life and understand little by little, that effort has struggled to become what we are now.

If your planet is destroyed by itself, or any catastrophe, death accept your resignation, I know you will. Travel thousands of light years, in vain look for any disaster, internal or external to destroy all that energy and beauty flow from end to all without respite. But that's part of life, and if things need to happen that way, never calculate, nor is there who has more or less fortunate. We follow the laws of life as we have been granted since the beginning of time. And if you ask me you have to die, well, that need to awaken in you, it's just as things should be.

Ultimately what is a God without creation? Although you feel that you occupy a higher place, you're just a cog, so do not let that word "God" let it go too far to the head. As a member of your community, velarás for them, in a manner so clever ever praise you for who you are, but what they think they are. If you do your job will praise you for what you did not like the sun and stars, and will ignore you so you really do!

Life does not guarantee us remain alive, and our life is subordinate to your new community, without understanding you, you understand, without knowing your real name, your name, and if life is what you get to know at some point, you know and share your life, you will not feel alone, and find a new pleasure, which is what I experience to write now, right before my death (with relevant satisfaction for having done my duty, which success will be reflected in eternity, for you), when I've been waiting a long time and whose results will not have the pleasure of seeing, that is sending a new life to a distant planet to form another, a new life which is really old, eternal ... a new life that I knew since I was a bacteria.

* Language Translation Eternum 0001 to English by the Space Pope

Red Eyebrows After Waxing

Suicide causation (speculation)

we reduce our presence at the most basic survival. But we survived not only as individuals but also collectively. There are many people in the world that we only care about suicide as a condition to a nearby plausible ours, not as an incident capable of mass destruction, because it is biologically impossible. There are suicidal, because nature allows us, and is "so rare ..." If bodies are programmed by agents external, why create a system of self-sabotage? And if we are independent individuals, why destroy what should come first because of our status as beings endowed with life?

I think there comes our independence from the operator, our break with nature, there comes out half our uniquely human, cultural. I read somewhere that a philosopher Pico della Mirandola called had proposed to our existence in this way: God created the world, and assigned each item a specific function, for example, tigers can not stop hunting, the plants are static and are, like the rest things, a fixed target. Humans, by contrast, are unfinished beings, beings who have the obligation to build ourselves, there lies our freedom and our greatness. The crude summary of this ingenious proposal shows that we have some freedom to create ourselves, to find a non-assigned within the universe. With this position, I assume total freedom (indeed, I am an ardent follower of causal determinism) but I give the man a freedom, as a species, they are built.

I have not researched enough about suicide, but usually occurs due to physiological or pathological causes than for any other reason. That is, as I've read this behavior is simplified to a simple disease. It is likely, however, would also analyze the effect on the environment in which there is semantic. Many people speak of suicide, and I've heard this analogy related to the poets. It is a curious aspect, suggesting a childish ignorance but I do not think that should be taken lightly. People associated with suicide poetry must have a certain fear of inner exploration, then, as they say "can lead to madness." I think this fear, although significantly social patterns, also have consequences more intimate level where it can create a certain fear of self, based not only with what you see and what you hear, but also to what is experienced.

suicide in some cases must have some logical justification, and usually then become a symbolic issue. Many people have died and will die by sacrificing his life for some ideal. Therefore, from a certain perspective, we are not unique and solipsistic, we need to communicate, and we need to exist, not only for ourselves but also for others. We are aware and we are as individuals, but also believe in the unity which we call "human beings", and live in reality, not for ourselves but also for others. Suicide may be seen as somewhat egocentric, but it is performed (justified or not) for others.

Fotos Al Desnudo De Long Dong Silver

Living
invade the kingdom from the breath, imagine
to the wild.
If I'm on the floor, laying, I can be more alive

an exploding poppies in the desert.

'm alive, even with my eyes turned inward
, although

lights decorate with black holes.
Although not sing but street
well imagine a thousand times,
I die of disappointment.

're alive, chrysalis, but cover him with suspicion

that simmer
colors that any late, too slow,
under the dark shadow of a tree
sinister limply
erase your last flash.

Wearing A Tight Sports Bra

Live Your fears are like songs of birds arriving ago bit of paradise

- Have you ever felt admiration for something they do not understand, and you can barely imagine?
- Something like that ... like when you have a picture of something you do not know but which you believe blindly that other people can imagine this abstract entity different, but you know it's there, though you can not really benchmark it with your mind ...
- I know what you mean but I'm not talking about that. I am speaking not of a noun imagistic, not a "something" created with properties between knowable and uninterpretable, but feel admiration for an abstract entity in itself need not have form, but somehow it is beautiful.
- So if it is, not physical, but to be beautiful has to be attached as a sense, is that otherwise might seem beautiful? Maybe a math problem may seem beautiful, what what you mean?
- Not exactly, but I like what you think. Linda, to be honest, though partly be disappointed in me, I mean your eyes.
- Mmm ... That if I did not expect that he had "no way? My view is shaped in a sense, I was expecting something more difficult.
- Is not like your look, here comes the hard part. It's not what I want to say with your eyes, not the tenderness and the reflection or depth, is not something I see with my eyes, is something I can not even imagine but I find aesthetically pleasing, is something that is only my mind but I know it exists because it exists in every one of us!
- My soul?
- I'm not talking about a noun!
- I know ... it is very difficult to understand you, maybe it is my wish for you ...
- Almost ...
- Almost? Am I going to tell?
- Is your fear
- Do you think that I have you scared?
- Not that I'm afraid, is your fear itself. You look what you're saying is that you feel it, nothing else, is the only vehicle that brings me to the next step. Not that I like to be afraid and do not want to provoke it.
- But you're scaring me ...
- If you see? Now I know it's there, and for some reason, I want to try to understand not think I'm a totally irrational. Now I know that there is your fear, I enjoy it because it is beautiful. Again, do not get me wrong. I do not enjoy, Fear not my intention to feel dominant over you, that's not about the pleasure I feel, is a pleasure merely aesthetic, disinterested, it's crazy, I know, but you have to understand ...
- Treatment ...
- I will not be afraid, it's just your fear. Your fear is like listening to songs of birds recently arrived from paradise ...
- I think I want to send me to heaven
- Shut up!
- ...
- I did not mean to shout, it is not me you understand. I'm not the mad aggressor who enjoys your pain. Has nothing to do with notions sadomasochistic or religious or anything like that, I am merely a spectator of your fear, and I like it because it makes you suffer, because I know I can not rescue your fear of standing out as your savior, Everything that's out of context! Your fear is like seeing a picture, and I'm not seeing a damn psychologist but as the first primate stood watching the stars, you know? The monkey did not want to eat the star did not want to mate with them, did not want to be your own damn! I was happy with how beautiful they are, because the unfortunate saw them beautiful, that's how I see your fear, is beautiful, but never hurt you ...
- "Not to hear the birds ...?
- Do not cry, your fear is something special, but do not understand how I can see it well ... the songs of birds are beautiful and melancholy, I can almost hear his song, but I do not hurt you so ... is there really a human being who can see the fear of another person?

Drinks With Gin Tonic And Kahlua

To understand, analogémonos

The unspoken I write, the loneliness. This is possible because I'm not part of the unit, because I separated from the others to gain experience. It is a different form of evolution, though it remains the same. Evolution: adaptation. Two similar individuals are separated, and the environment around them changes. After thousands of years are reunited, but they are different, they are rehabilitated. Intelligence: Evolution.

These beings, a magical day of contemplation that could be heaven or reflection, were aware of its existence, of himself, and had a rehabilitation. Separation: intelligence: evolution. Now the experience is not processed by the mother's intelligence that makes the body absorb the surroundings. Now the specimen seeks to adapt the environment (and fear) to their needs. Separation: solitude. Loneliness sets a level of experience much more productive. Intelligence: communication.

words are not mine. Adding the self implied: I say that words are not mine, nor letters, nor thought nor myself. I'm just a craftsman who works through analogies. There are no communication barriers, only the consensus culture, symbolic community. To understand, analogémonos. Symbol: drive. Say rose, red rose among thorns. The red rose among thorns discolored. The lips, the woman, blood, life, where life is born. Where death begins.

No single words, there is no artistic failure, there is consensus. Culture: blackmail. The separation we dislike, separation makes us an ego, separation makes us individuals, only Dionisio us together once again to frolic, delirious, turn to the whole, to the mother's intelligence. Culture: drive: Delirium: happiness. Happiness is art. Dionisio is art. The instrumentation human, manufactured in the dreamy delirium. A drunken super heat that consumes us. Again, the dreamers awake dependent frenzy. Orgasm: life. Dream ...

Soul Silver Anti Freeze (u) Patch

The routine tasks of taming

I have something I still do not know, but I know that, besides there somewhere (in the library of Babel, for example), is clinging to a neuron in pulse indecent and do not leave me alone. I want to discover who that someone who is characterized in my unconscious, because I think the symbols have their character, the little dreamers, created in the image and likeness of us parents. Tracking

structure, Sometimes an idea or a spirit and from that Achilles heel of a concept generates. Many times I go places and with the memory, sometimes not even stay there and reminiscent of a crude product left to the imagination of the neo-neo-Platonic. Sometimes I get for believing in the pieces of words, not images in the lyrics of the worlds anything too abstract. I want to say something but not always straight, and that sometimes the meaning (what means) is demagnetized, and compass of our home fleeing the south.

Sometimes I just say that I'm alive, sometimes I live to be able to say something. Sometimes you just I speak ... and sometimes, when the backs are feeling the wall I walk with my fingers, I write. The

Sound Clip Of Someone Answering The Phone

Shadow are

shadow color, shadow you.

Of the thousands of white walls
you seal that keeps the secret.
In between the mirrors, the only
that reflects what should be. Navigating
unpainted pictures,
sketch of a single color, painting
nuances of the question.

Of the senses or sight or touch
of corpuscles,
or smell or taste or hearing.
are pure instinct, pure
memory like water seeping from the sand,
as light in the fog. And although

light, shadow color, shadow
you.

East Sides Marios Shredded Cheese

From West to East (Part II)

The colony moves faster, but a fog around you is responsible for distorting the distant objects and people for your eyes only focus what's important, Natalia. You are part of the colony but feel out of it. Their movements are oblique lines, has rhythm, harmony and melody at a time. But you can hardly notice it, because now they're isolated, and even more of it.

usual I love that you have to experience things before or after they have happened. Illusion, you say again with a smug smile to face you know the answers of all things, and not only do you think capable of that, but you can answer them in a sophisticated manner. You're wrong, I think it is a disability that does not want to concentrate now on it: in their hands in your mouth or in his words. I see you and it makes me laugh, just listen to what your answer says to bullfight and want to show who you are Take a little under the feathers!

I like this ice cream shop, is near the end of the world, just like home. Do people always so nice to her? We do not feel insignificant, remember that she is with you, and most likely, if she notices that the ice cream looks at him with varied intentions, probably also think it's good because it is a form of redemostrarte As it, the PVP. So boldly daring to inquire about its intentions, but only a vague guess, do not listen to me, better watch it, it looks so innocent ... Her eyes shine to hear you talk. Her small hands do not hold the ice cream balances it magically, it does float. His tongue is bathed in cold and flavors. Sorry, I can not stop talking about it without adhering a decorative adjective. Your turn to balance the temperature right? I'm suffocating heat, unable to drink a frozen, unable to even drink it. If you looked at the sky at this time you'd realize that we are close, very close to noon. The heat is vulnerable and you gently made you lose patience, and do not look to him, but his lips. Under the sun, walking home in this town where the souls seem to have evaporated, are you, her and the wall. And the shadows also seem to have evaporated, but there are just hidden under the floor, waiting for the sun to let their guard post at the highest point of heaven, in all its monstrous glory dry. For this reason, the light just blind my eyes and I can not see the time you throw against the wall, his wrists and take the keys, crucify the wall. The sun and its fucking 90 degrees at the point of equilibrium now depends entirely on you choosing the course to take ...

is the one p.m. and the sun sets in the west, strange, and I keep looking as frustrated with her walk. Looks at you with pity, and do not know if it was you or if it was me who left his wrists bruised. Today was not my day, and although it was yours, was not good for you. You are the loser, who lets himself be dominated by fear, which plans the speeches, the one who goes there, coming home with pockets Natalia hands, with a nearly tears redrawing and refracting the iris. She comes to your door, your Submission is your shame and before closing the door you think of saying, "Nature is a mysterious poem of secret signals." She says: "take care" and closes the door of his house.

Okay, I will not attack you now, I know that has not been an easy day, full of pent-up tension, and not unloaded enough. If only the sun had decided to fall in the east. I'm not throwing in the face, but I'm sure I would have dominated. Why, comforts you, get to think about Natalia, imagine that I have in my bed, imagine what I would have done with it. In a totally dark evening in my room, when the last lights go out at dusk, try to see as I would have torn clothes. Do not you feel better? To me yes.

The way back is even longer, and it is not going to matter that the beggar more stinky is sitting beside you on the bus. Listening to that hateful ranchera music world is no more acceptable, and worse with your face loser. Emanate weakness, and therefore the world hates you one more day, as long as the sun goes down by your side. Okay, do not mind me, just that matter, the shadows are only two-dimensional bodies.

In your room, unfortunately the sun shines like the morning, only now descends. The solitude of your room now perennial choking, and see you lying face down with your face on the pillow wrapped in that mix your saliva and your tears ... How do you expect us to dance under the moonlight and let us hand over to illusions of night? Sleep again, but you get up early tomorrow because the sun will not come through your window and I just wake up wanting to kill myself. Tomorrow the sun will not show until noon, and this time, if I survive myself I'll win the game. Do not hate you just do not work as a team, the perfect day is the one that goes against the grain. These days when the sun crosses the sky from west to east.

How Loud Is A Desert Eagle

From West to East (Part I)

open your eyes, get up, not close them again. That happens in the days when sunlight comes in through your window, something very rare in a room facing the west. You go and come back, walk in a circle. Drunk with the past and the future: dreams I say, I now claim it: that overwhelms you with joy.

This happened yesterday remember? Woke up at the same time provided only that you did not stay in bed, but remembered the same thing last night to comfort your dream. Now it's like, your mother can not help but notice the smile on your face and you try to pretend austerity. Mothers are not underestimated: going to see Natalia. Why

delays in the bathroom? Water slides thousands of times and sailing the same routes in your body before walking into the pipe. What happens is you think about what will happen later when you meet her, so far beyond where left his home and think about what is going to say, but that is difficult, it is easier to think of what you're going to say. I bet that when you wipe with a towel and have another speech in mind, each with about five different possibilities to answer ... But you forget, and I know a lie when you say you prefer the surprise.

"Nature is a mysterious poem of secret signals" I bet you gonna do that, but I hope not to disappoint you that do not understand. Are you going to say and even if you think you've wondered about it. I think it's the opposite, that the poem is a mysterious nature of signs, but if I do not doubt your speech prefabricated, so do not be surprised, she at least pretend.

Yes, everything is a circus, until you're part of it when you think about it while looking at ants carrying and bringing food court. It bothers me that you continue rambling about the same until you realize you're not getting on the bus and you get the loose pocket and the conductor looks at you with a face. Let me guess that comes to mind: "It was my fault." Do not know how to do it, perhaps as a sign of humility. Wrong. It shows a huge ego, damn it, think the world revolves around you.

Well, I took a seat quickly, your mishap with the collector is not going to stop looking up for awhile. If at this moment to ask you what I'm thinking surely I would say that you seem to me predictable. Well, you guess right and wrong at once. But let's leave that discussion for later, better put your mind on something more relaxing, something that makes you feel good. I think the right decision, that to get to think about Natalia. Sure, the subject encompasses many possibilities.

For example, it is time to get to think like her on the bed. You're on a bus, irresponsible. I propose a topic: Will they think of you more than you in it? It is a vast subject, which actually is not much, considering that there is very little chance of that find, but at least you keep busy for a long time. Do not be disappointed so fast, do not say it's impossible to know, of course it's impossible! So what? Since you are mature enough to know that you can not have anything for granted.

The road is long but the minutes do not dance in a row but marching in column, and you see every second, one after the other. The sun is in the west and in ascent, is one of those days. What if you look slightly to your surroundings, not many people to remember your incident, also must have better things to think about. By your side, on the other window is that small child who looks at you curiously. Do you remember yourself? That's not left you with a string of superb "bug rare. " Children together are not very different, at least not go thinking about whether this or that person is good or bad. I hate those two words but I just have to use them.

Well, you just sat down beside a lady. Did you cheat and it seems that the woman also. I do not know if you pretend to be nice or if they really are, the lady preferred the former as I believe the latter, and you're still in the neutral, which unites us in a separate observation platform to the lady and me. From there, the woman beneath the opulent red perhaps hides some pairs of silver threads and I, we observe with compassion almost noble, we both know you would have preferred it with you she feels fresh and whole.

But the good lady did not know you as well as I, and I know that the only difference that existed between her and the twenty ay is a tiny amount of sweat on your brow, a smile hidden and intense friction, light and concealed . Come on, I know that you had never spoken, and if you liked, she would probably not you. Do not blame the city of cold, must be something more related to the customs, those that are losing the meaning, in short, I do not know ... We

. That strange feeling, that strange cliché. Go back to your center, there is, look, Tell me you remembered those eyes from yellow and brown. The color of a tree whose roots drink gold. Your skin can not be described nor his lank black hair but involve an infinite space If you get to have it, I'll let you enjoy it?