This weekend I finished the recording of my my video about poetry. During the last shoots, I give myself a feel seconds of reflections before I turn off my camera. What made myself a "story teller?" Why I have so many questions? Isn't life just a leader in the wind going by the occasion? or is the wind a tinny common eye, were the leader shows itself as the memo of his destiny? Actually i don't know, and indeed, I am not expecting to found out. Whatever my infinitive of a second came to an end; therefore, I must go back to the Matrix, and have some coffee with sugar to convince me that cares...yet.
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