The room

I feel so safe in this room, so dark but with such clear ideas, here I am an invincible superman where there are no visible enemies or any threat of a world that seems chaotic at the same time simplified with all our reflections of issues and fears.

I wrap myself in a blanket of exhaustion from the nights so agitated by hysterical owls and starving foxes, from the silence of the day emanated by hurrying people and serpents crawling needy, in the streets full of drama and neighborhoods of emotions in the city erected by concrete, rigid And gray as the walls of the room that serve as a fortress, the shelter against any war fierce or troubled for love.

I leave the center of the city in the room that gives wings and swords to face the menacing dragons outside, but the recluse is not enough to frighten the ghosts that walk inside, to haunt with their doubts, mysteries and questions. The false absence and the same as a presence, the illusion of distance very close, small being large, plunged into a world of ideas, away from the traps of objectivity and appearances so perishable to time, very close to the subjectivity in the infinity of the imagination.

I exile myself in the small and clumsy room but always so alive and aware of the world.