@signornumerotto
Because among all the identities laid out on the table, I chose the lateral one: oblique, unclassifiable. Otroverso. Oblique trajectory in a world that moves straight
An entire worl inside a room.
Ah, modern communication: that wonderful game of emotional riddles where everyone talks, no one listens, and empathy has been on indefinite leave. Understanding each other has become a luxury, like white truffles or parking in the city center.
When humans reached the end of the reality they had known until then, they were faced with the dilemma of moving forward. Many chose stones to fill the abyss and build a bridge, but the abyss never filled, and they spent their lives throwing weight into the void.
Once upon a time there was a girl who dreamed of a man, and there was a man who dreamed of running with a package tucked under his arm along the asphalt of a road, black and grey like all those roads whose ending you can never quite see, a bit like when you think about the future and it feels like a series of frames you’re supposed to read backwards, except you don’t have the mirror, so you’re screwed.
No series found
