December 28th 2018, a beautiful sunny morning. I go out in the morning, there is no feeling of frost or annoying wind, it is good in the sun, the sky is bright, the air is crisp, pleasant. All this is outside, then there is the body that is uncertain, it is the body of an old man, who feels a little bit of breathlessness, moving can cause pain, yet the body resists but inside is undermined, the ephemeral of the self dominates the field, no future, only present, hour by hour. Then there is the spirit or whatever it is, but you feel that it is old too, that it has no more impulses, admitted that he had had them in other times. You need confirmations that come from outside, of certainties there is not even a shadow. We should spend ourselves without reserve, perhaps, to change something, but it is as if nothing was worth it. I don’t know if children are a link with the future, gays don’t have children, when they become old they have only a past behind them, in front there is not even the projection of the children to give the impression of not ending completely. Noon has passed, the sun begins to fall, there is still, as long as it lasts. I go back home, it’s warmer, a known environment, old too, full of memories that somebody will throw away in a while, and even if I left my computer to someone, nobody would care. Each has his dreams, which are only his, his archives that will be lost after him. What to do with the remaining time? It is easy to say: something good. The difficulty is to get out of words, of emotional feelings that don’t produce anything. The sense of loneliness is realized when you are old because loneliness is not constructive and means estrangement and abandonment mingled down, estrangement and abandonment mental rather than physical, means meeting each other without having anything to say, talking about trivial things, just to waste the time, spending hours together waiting and wishing to be alone again, until health will make impossible our being alone, and afterwards, may God have mercy on us!
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