Today is not a circus where we can juggle with words, where we can make deathjumps towards oblivion. Today is not healed even by words; it had fallen ill much beyond them from the excess of staring at strange horizons.
Today is the time denying it's own second and it's own breath full of imaginary gesture, full of the unforseen, from which we cut slices , each of us, looking to have enough for a lifetime, even it hasn't started yet and then,we happily dissapear with our prey. No words behind us.
Today is the soul smiling from the past towards a future equally uncertain.
Today is just dreaming.
On our own.