Viajes fuera del mundo

There are days that last moments to be finally pass-ages, fragments in which I feel to be facing a dark and squalid world. It just appears as a lightning: every single pain is accumulated, perceived as normal, talked without being understood. This feeling does not appear in a strong manner, does not announce its coming to just flows around me to remember to who is writting that while I spent mi life being so happy (neither the happiness of the dumbs living in their tapperware nor a circunstancial one if not a madness due to be alive!) there are loads of people, souls outside that have gotten used themselves -or what is worst, they have been got used- to live in a kind of cerebral-alpha-wave of emptiness or problems. Other sometimes this feeling comes in a ver perceptible way as if... at a certain moment of a corner I could hear all the conversations around me: robberies, violence, illness, arguments, cries. Once I woke up as coming from a sea of moans...I never feel afraid, don`t get confused about it: I just think there is something more I could do, more people to cuddle, to hug, to help, to save.

Cuando despierto por las mañanas necesito algunos segundos donde pasan raudales de cosas por mis sentidos para entender donde estoy en lugar geográfico, espacio, tiempo. Deberia escribir mis desvaríos mentales de los minutos postreros: me asaltan dudas del tipo "Por qué la gallina no sabe cuantos pollitos tiene" y el clásico "por qué el pollo cruzó al otro lado del camino". La utilidad de los plumíferos para los dilemas universales. A veces me ocurre cuando mi mente vuelve luego de haberse ido sin avisarme y me "despierto" sin haberme dormido en el colectivo y necesito esos minutos salvadores de total inoperancia decisora para entender donde estoy, adónde iba y para qué.