That´s as may be
August 14th
Afternoon at stomachache. For the Hungry Boy
Afternoon at stomachache
There's a simple story behind the reason of this letter series, and my efforts will take as priority to put into words as similar as possible to this suggestions. At first we need to clarify the narrative rutine of these letters: they will be progressively written during the day marked by the post date, at least it will like that for most fo the cases. Secondly, I'm not using my mother tongue for these letters, and probably I will never do the oppposite. So it's quite probable grammar mistakes arise since now on. This choice is due to some psycho stuff I will need to explain later, so better not mess up my credibility in the first issue.
I like Times New Roman but my calligraphy is a mess though. The Icon of this page is a reference to a videogame which I never complete. I can´t do any task while listening music, I detest the inmmersive sensation being interrupted by a casual interest of what I'm hearing. I have the tendency of listening any kind of prosaic non-musical content but when I'm done I remember nothing from it though. With all these facts enoughly explained, I have a starter point.
What in the hell led me to publish words in the maelstrom of human pankatreon of thoughts? (23;78)
For the Hungry Boy
The suggestion I mentioned just above came to me while remember a song from a film. I never really felt a close connection with this one but for the OST, that's another story. For the Hungry Boy represents the continuous cadential sensation of being inmersed in an english valse transported to the antique minimalism of another epoch and another culture. No time to feel the cold warmth that it transmits, I began to practice brutally interrupting my lesson on the piano. Because of this little clash of sudden memories I realized that something important to me was by time removed from my priorities. They have just evolved into some kind of new vague extasy I now called anxiety. The dead anxiety of not doing any damn thing. The dread feeling of being dynamically convulsive in a still quite scene. Leaving thus the few pieces of past chromatisms that piece carefully placed in my head I decided tu retake some habits I didn't realize I abandoned.
So yeah, it's kind of close and esoteric planning to start a daily letter series just because I grew and I forgot about a song but whoever is still reading at this point you can just ignore my hubbub, have a seat, listen.
And while doing so, I'll keep having a seizure. The whole expirience of little hammered bells choked slowly below string seas of wavy furious english winds and imagery of a dried delusions. Peace of a never-ending walk at the street. That's the story I was hunting inside my head. Endlessly wandering at the course of my own rendition.
Like watching through the window of your own home from outside. While trembing at the nosense of not being in there. (110;76)