the why not people are many, a silent majority waiting after the swinging movement as the head of muppet dogs on the rear of the car, how to be otherwise, to decide how my life could be without being forced to follow, i must be selfish, ie to abandon frivolous pleasures, maximum concentration on the present, forgetting that yesterday was or will be tomorrow, thinking that all is happening continuously in the uncertainty of mass destruction uncontrolled madness, Millions of neurons disappear in general indifference, where am I going, straight into the unknown, adventure staying motionless at the bottom of the poorly lit room, I travel in remote areas of my heart, in search of an answer, is she in my liver or in my spleen, or somewhere I do not know the name, why bother to drag my luggage at the end of the world when you can go at home in the depths of human mystery, what's more wonderful than to discover after years of research that the body is dirty, it stinks, fom mouth, buttocks, under arms, feet, the skin when there has not washed for a week, but something extraordinary, in the center of this stench shite, strolls the soul, great simplicity and beauty, the problem is to follow it, she scoots in the bend of the nerve tissue at the speed of light, it is obviously the opposite of the shadow, it's the beauty of human beings, everything else is just stinking flesh, nature guided by self-interest to override the maximum number of people, so when by chance I see my soul through the highway of the sun, I sit and do nothing, contemplating the beauty of living at the rhythm of my lunar breathing, time passes majestic up to the concern that arises, who am I, Where am I going, could I not enjoy peace in a moment of grace, no, the flesh recovers outrage, it requires aging in the stress and anxiety, I resist as I can but the struggle is unequal, The weight of the world is on my shoulders, I'm alone with the many, lost in the great ocean, worried in the night, the day dazzles, O life as it passes through a torrent of mud to fail in the garbage of modern society, am i only one, living until life ends, my body will descend to the cave, the bodies wear out, hope, too, what can y keep from past, images without captions complicate thr present by interpreting new situations through old ideas