Such a messed up little planet we live in and such a messed up thing life is.
Thoughts flow, like a river and their consolidation seems like such a trivial task at times.
People flow, like objects in the river, but projections remain like a promise given at birth.
Children grow so fast breaking our hearts and returning the relentless cruelty of this world we introduced them to.
History and science flow without charity and without any sense of good taste.
The only thing filling one with endless joy is the present and the presence of oneself in it.