I started reading to have an excuse to say thank you and hi.

Sometimes I feel when a writer doesn’t write there’s something in its heart.

And since I don’t have much to do, sometimes I ask the why.

I kept on reading and I marveled, such an honor to receive your words. I kept on reading and I wonder, am I also almost lost.

It is so treacherous to be a man, so many faces in the crowd. We want to possess all when nothing we can have.

And then a sense of gratitude began to fill my aching heart. Taking care of this man’s mother, like someone does to mine.

And a parent always waits for the wind to return the child, who confused with tales of freedom, as a slave was sold afar.

I have no business here commenting, nor saying all this words of mine. Maybe just to say thank you. Maybe for having crossed our paths here in this lines.

The words connect.

(Yes they can divide, but only for the one who does not allow to be touched by them).

Thank you and sorry for the rant.

Pp