What kind of age are we residing in? Anywhere is stuffed and pushed with shallow, insipid, and rusty impressions that lack also the capacity to be understood. The deceptiveness of pleasing appetite, satiation, deceives. The world of the well-fed is the really lower of fraud … It appears to me that short-haired females have problems with their enthusiasts or their femininity. Exactly how can a woman without troubles look actual? Coffee advises me of the slit blood vessels of Latin America. At that moment, I feel ashamed to consume coffee, and consuming it fills me with sense of guilt. Then I see an old Latina lady, her face wrinkled, her stogie in resistance, resisting life. And there I claim, “Life is worth living,” for the umpteenth time. Drinking coffee with sugar seems like thinning down and misshaping fact. Yet fact, bitter, bitter, yet similarly a dependency that, when savored, makes you militant. Sugar, on the various other hand, brings back memories of my sticky, bleeding childhood years. Because not every cut leaves the very same mark on every child, my youth is like that of a deeply reflective person. The truth is children’s screams, metallic noises, girls huddling like tendrils in their chimneys, black smoke crinkling from their necks, Nefertiti faces, consciences bled by suspended bodies that believe without sensation, or are unable to assume, and afterwards a muffled skies available to nothingness. The true truth is the hearts that stand up to the devastations of these disgraces, stand high versus them, and give one the heat of willow trees.