tale

Neverending Eve

They crave a change, they yell it loud! 

Their desire bursts spectral fireworks! They water hope with short rushes of champagne! They dance to their blue panties! They choke their doubts with raisins every bell whisper! 

They are delirious: time passed a day and a new year begins unattended. All living souls went to a party, either to work or to cheer. 

A cinematic travelling… slow… kidnaping men and women, old and young, in the main square… motion. Keep them captive, marinating in a sauce of thought apparatus. 

It’s curious to notice change in everything and yet a Change is something remotly placed in future or past. 

Never knew a being who learns from calendars. Dates are placements, references, numbers as distractions to other equations. It’s time for so many parallels that a straight timeline isn’t even something up to date. 

I wish a man could arise from the crowd we kidnapped three paragraphs ago, a synthesis of it, the eternal man. A man who ever lived, who could keep everyone in his chest to ask humanity to pay the ransom. An overall being that would laugh at his teenage days and would do the same with his time. A yoldung, a wo-man, an (assiduously late, frequently soon) crivictimal. A man that can cheer for a dying year the same way we claps to a new coming one or celebrhates today. Something, somehow, able to perceive time as a stage in order to perform in a classic three act play with all those who left and will populate this chronometer. A being made in three equal parts of past, present, future. A living triangle, an absolut being.

I wish 2017 a zero man.