We are like islands suspended. Below we nor ocean, nor heaven nor earth. Only abyss. The abyss of our lives. Unbridgeable.
are sometimes touching, sometimes, unfortunately, a new leave.
Yet just a nothing.
Pull off a bridge so we can finally recover.
Why is so difficult?
It 's a nothing.
never tired of surviving, because this is not a live-in such a rending loneliness?
Why such indifference?
Come together. Let's get back to us.
[René Magritte's work does not accurately reflect this "doodle", but I remember when I was little, looking through the textbook elementariness, my eyes fell on this painting and, then, I was not fascinated nor wonder ... what I felt was fear. My Stream of Consciousness "I brought to mind only this image. Today I smile watching it, but then surely I felt something of what I have now written.]