ANIMAL PLASMA

The old gutters ringing in wails to end falling away in the backyard where the frogs took a shower and time up. The song spills its witchcraft following the vocal group in different compass according the water's intensivity Anyway, the performance it was brillant acude into many orchestral variations Subtle silence happens. No occurrence. There was modulations incredible coda jumping and movement makes little quarter minutes and now this pause From window I see sat in a stone the great master frog I had some suspicious They were making homage to John Cage I think they exaggerated                              ####### https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Pedro+Moreira+Nt?Nrpp=20&page=2

  Sometimes unexpected things happen, stranger in part. This little short story is about that and how we can overcome our pains through our courage. Like I say, It happens. We suffer from shame, the malign use of our confidence and goodness, and the loss of a personal belief in a life with value. We can be wounded and afflicted without those who can help us immediately. Parents, friends, or someone occupied with caring for and protecting people without refugees appear. It comes away suddenly because they remember who you are. It came from a dream that I had the other day night. I dreamed a Falcon took the little bird from the nest and flew beaten against it on the wall. It fell, and the parents helped him to return to the nest. A time after, it created wings and flies. Later, he found the hawk and bicked his soul. He turned himself into a simple mockingbird with the strong spirit of a hawk that sang his song in the garden. He is different after that experience. To be a hawk without bei

   Globalization is a word whose concept has yet to be understood by most researchers. I said that because I have seen variations that could be more interpretative. I would begin with what word is formed. By the last, we have a suffix that led us to action, a movement from particularity to a social conjunct of people, and the prefix Global, from lat. Globus, sphere, indeed represents a  perceptive object conditioned. It is a linguistic, symbolic definition of our planet. It needs to be more direct and clear because our planet is not a platonic sphere but a periform model of the totality of whatever the Earth seems to be.      The conceptual problem about using a spheric sense is certainly still from Plato, one of your abstract geometric solid models. Take off that we could see from that scholastic inversion a feature from Globalization word with a pronounce of ideological propaganda, marketing about some idea. In that sense, Globalization is hiding something, not only in a domestic met

    Living is between what was and what will be. Made on phases that does not reach a totality of meaning and senses.  The Eternal Return from moral and ethical action it does not arrive at the desired life. We need to live beyond clausured models by rules common, habits and conceptual understanding about the other. We need to welcome the differences, those that do not have a belongs, knowledge, living in abandoned, people that were excluded xpulse, put out and annulled, cancelled. A convoy in its marche conveys a wide range of  emotions, feelings, and sensations that bring joy and thinking to be transformed, changed, and get back on track with more soft weight to care, a way to retake our values and our awareness renewed. These words are like a convoy where go the people crossing rivers, seas, fields, hills,  Tempestuous is the world, says someone on the streets, and heard, “need persons made of breeze, subtle, gentle, constant wind. No one can breeze to live. Anyone could be like a b

What would become of the ant community if it were possible to create our system in an anthill? We could see them launching rockets, destroying the garden, and attacking each in a miserable life of exchange relations. High techniques and technology could create a space base on the frigidaire door.  They could have a scientific and technological system for the formic acid application, and almost all of them would have some education debt, living in social discrimination. And love would be an excellent way to make money. We could see the justification from justice for the poor around and the privilege of politicians, the grungy sardonic smiles from the rich ants. In many periods a significant part of the common chamber of the population was smashed by ideology and merchandising journalism in a consigned moral. By the way, this can happen but do not now. Imagine being obligated to get out of the house, going to live in a poisonous electrical tower, and being forbidden to leave. Certainly,

  Interesting to know from afar. This is what happens with the Philosophy of Absence. Distances care for us and protect us, and when we call them close we are always afar, and  foreigners with them we are. However, when we deal with the place, where we certainly are, in some way immersed, we are persecuted, mistreated, chained and thrown into the murky waters of the ideological properties of speeches. Alone, in the whirlwind that silence produces, we bubble our absences, submerged in the deep shallows of our impossibilities, subjected to distances, to the generic river that takes us further and further, to be beautiful and loved. The silence over the place is the boat that takes us to magnificent distances, from where we can be heroes, correct, freed from the smelly and violent swamp of local power. The philosophy of absence, the watery producer of distances, exempts us from all malice. It is an ideological capitalism where concepts of abstraction and salvation accumulate, an achieved

     I would be a courageous man to say with gentleness who I am. But ordinary circumstances are prevented by preventing strangers' rules. I will do what nothing can say. I am not just jumping over events.      I see around those that say mouth out what they represent. I do not know it, and I am not a representation or agency bound with groups, parties, or anyway like a table of contents. This dysfunctional man shows an appearance, a skin that hides something invented, that what be who can be. As asked thinkers from the past until now, I ask myself in all of human history: who are we? Without what can be quotidian, I am a kind of soul that needs to exist despite  literature with a filling that has as a place the space between essay and art. It is similar to what art history has produced so far.      An essay is more like this: a position from science and art or free expression. It is less imperative in the academic world than literature in the cause.      I create a convolution pro