vincet

Hi journal.
We are correspondants of our own life.
How is our life ?
The words we write are proof of life. today it seems the journal is one of the last areas where we can find something about the human beeing in our occidental or liberal civilizations : a private opinion about life? I don't know.
From the memory of the preromantic, but most surely through the verses of the poets from the pre-"antiquit we find that air of wish. I want just salute that. Good work.
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I have a tiring day, but an intensiv nerve of .... come to me & grow each time inside my body-mind.

I hope tomorrow we can talk all dears.

Measure of the shot : smile & precision.
And don't forget we are alive.
The force of the intimaty : fuck the lukewarmness!

In a Salinger novel a little kid say : "I would like to be a dead cat. Because the skin of a dead cat has no value for the human".