minus 36

"Dear Eric

Today was a strange day. It is difficult to me separate the inside from the outside. The things that I think from the thinks that I know. Sometimes is like that. Have dark areas in my mind. Injuries and deep holes whose fund I can’t see, for more that I concentrate.
The holes are everywhere and, when you perceive them, you can’t stop. Some are dark wells with echoes and others have stopped dark water in the depths. Inside them I can see a distant full moon and the cut silhouette of a person, looking back to me. The contour makes me terrorized. It is me below? Or are you? Maybe doesn’t be anybody. The view become the reflex – and… something more, another thing. Something that I knew and maybe I lose, or maybe not. I know that what I write don’t make sense, but sometimes the strangest things are essentials to me. As if the labels had fallen and were replaced in the wrong place. I write what seems important; even when I read again and means nothing, I leave as is, because what I know? Don’t lose your faith in me, Eric.
Where going everything? I wrote so many things that don’t is hear anymore. Things are lost and that is the life, but… But. Last night, I dreamed that there were five red wardrobes. Four was full and I lock them in somewhere. Was this a dream or the lasts wreckages of memory sank? You know what I mean. Inside and outside. Object and reflex. Front and back. Positive and negative. I think I am leaving things more confusing, rather than clarify them. I will stop to write now.

Weigh and hope,
Eric"