The night is more beautiful.
The city takes breath, it seems that sleep, and triggers the mechanism that alters the strange perceptions.
What's going on around us seems to run at different times from the normal, slower or faster. But no normal.
is a period in the evening I can not stay at home and when it happens, my brain puts in motion a mechanism sending negative messages to my mood.
But there is a stupid thing, thinking that without any logic I can find reassuring to know that not far from my home in the place I frequent usually, everything continues to move as the last time that there are was.
That there are people that if you give a fuck where you are, what you do, the menate take you back, but that is there from the time of opening, which continues to do the same things as before, talking about the same arguments and drink the same beers.
So if you are not the nine, but after midnight, and still want to go out because the walls of your home you shake him, you always find the same bartender who first gives you a pat on the ass and then offers you a beer and asks what the hell makes you have that face, because for the people of the night is all a little bit sacred and profane. But no normal.
Normality is for the day. Palahniuk would say so.
Even living in a big city, we discover that we all like to know a country, the same faces month after month.
spend summers and winters go, but people always survives the night, hidden in the rooms, confused in the shadows.
will then be this: a matter of lights.
do not know.
"Live every day as if it were the last." Nobody ever does really.
Yet on the important stuff is talked of the night, perhaps because she is triggering subconsciously aware, or rather fear, that that is really the last time that we have to say or do whatever we want.
And then you find yourself doing things without sense, as an average pay on someone just because he said the wrong word, or to hear the cock of another never seen before, drinking the fourth beer of the evening telling you of his love gone, or the child who does not see for months.
The people of the night he wanted to tell his life as if it were someone else for trying a little bit of a pain and tenderness, like a story or read somewhere.
Sad, unbelievable, funny, sad, but "normal" ... no.
Normal Even living in a big city, we discover that we all like to know a country, the same faces month after month.
spend summers and winters go, but people always survives the night, hidden in the rooms, confused in the shadows.
will then be this: a matter of lights.
do not know.
"Live every day as if it were the last." Nobody ever does really.
Yet on the important stuff is talked of the night, perhaps because she is triggering subconsciously aware, or rather fear, that that is really the last time that we have to say or do whatever we want.
And then you find yourself doing things without sense, as an average pay on someone just because he said the wrong word, or to hear the cock of another never seen before, drinking the fourth beer of the evening telling you of his love gone, or the child who does not see for months.
The people of the night he wanted to tell his life as if it were someone else for trying a little bit of a pain and tenderness, like a story or read somewhere.
Sad, unbelievable, funny, sad, but "normal" ... no.
not.
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