When I’m with my cats in the silence of the dusk, i become a thin wisp of wind, and I’m blown away.





For a lot of people i know i am a kind of a weirdo weak loser.
I have kindness, heart and courage. Animals is my family and Earth is my home.
I love the rain on my face.

I can not stand the abuses and arrogance. I have nightmares every night for not being able to save my cats.
Every time I look out the window, hoping to see who is gone and has not returned.
To have almost broken through the door of the veterinary screaming “kitty down” when I found Tommy.
To not be ashamed to be angry, shout or cry of joy or pain.
To be too stupid to give up and not be on the “wrong side”
To believe that dreams never die.
To do the right thing even though sometimes are pains.
To be a “comedian scared warrior”.
To write these words.
Good night.

We live in a high castle?


We live confined in a high castle that we have built, impregnable,
a purely illusory and mental cage?
Or like the other animals in the forest, where everything is manifest without superstructures and compromises?
Other animals, because we are animals, in spite of an ontological cage.
Maybe the correct path is in the middle: walking courageously, and retreat inside.
Maybe we were all thrown in the life, no matter how long you live, but what you do. Trying not to fall into the prompter’s box, avoiding being anesthetized too.
Perhaps we are born by chance, but we can try to make a difference.
Like animals.