[Si escribo lo que siento es porque así disminuyo la fiebre de sentir. Lo que confieso carece de importancia, pues no hay nada que tenga importancia. Hago paisajes con lo que siento. Hago vacaciones de las sensaciones. Fernando Pessoa]
This is a beautiful monster that lives as an outsider. He knows everything about us, our most dark and lonely secrets… even those that we don’t know yet. This outsider monster don’t give a shit about our projections and ideology (really… who gives a shit?) He is just there, and come around time to time to smell us, and hear us talking about his feet and see us writing endless theories pretending to know how his feet moves… Can you hear him? He’s whispering:
I don’t like to walk
I prefer fly
____________Big Dragon>fly, let’s fly, fly away.