This is such a self serving piece of cybercuriosity...
Without a purpose or specific theme, object or modus operandi, what could I possibly want to post on a blog which I am nearly certain nobody I know will accidentally read... I guess it is part of our narcisistic ways and an old habit of playing with words and letting them rather than I do the thinking. In the end, as per the opening act, it is about curiosity.
Here we all are, in a world so lush with paradox where some having little problems to solve, try to find meaning by creating problems, wants and being hypnotized by their own sense of self worth... and in the same place, sharing the same air, real needs and real problems that though we all think important few of you think important enough to tap onto your own wallets to solve. And I say "you" because saying "us" would be a lie, utterly, since it is little to nothing that I myself have done to tackle the real needs and real things that face me day after day.
But I digress in what I thought would be a good story to reminiss about... this prodigal computer in which I write... never working but never dead. Always being fixed yet never knowing if anything was truly wrong. Today it brought me modest joy... by reviving and pretending to have some of it's former life, I remember that this cyberspace did ocupy an important part of my life. Journaling, or telling stories even if they did not have a clear direction or beginning.
They always however, had some or other form of an end.
