Eternity is short, especially towards the end.
Because, let's face it, when we write try to play early. Neither the past - which is the ideological cover - or immediate - that is the only unknown in the past. In fact, this post.
's post after-this-moment, that is your affair, not mine. I'm not even there: writing certify my absence. Is it not here in my post- or ?
The blog is basically a flash of magnesium, which makes us blind as much as is necessary to lose their inhibitions about their absence: "I'm not writing mica, is only one post, they are still here, I will."
there, and not, this is a delight. This, perhaps, is the mortal and eternal nature of the post endures as a whole day, as deadly soul. Posts
dead, forgotten, buried lie ahead as invisible cities, such as signs. The blog, perhaps, is not the sum of his post. As we are not only the sum of what we are or we are no longer.
*** warning: post-structurally wrong, aggressive treatment to artificially prolong the life of the previous post. The blogetica strictly forbids it.
