The story I'm going to tell, is not my story.
It is the story of someone, who is telling a story which is very similar to his own.
The dream I will remember, won't be mine.
It's the dream of someone who remembers a dream, that is very similar to his own.
I think of stories I like to make stories.
To tell them. I know this must sound like the dream of little Iasonas. What will he be when he grows up.
When I wake up, it'll happen again.
It'll start all over...
Thursday, May 10, 2007
We're almost there. Through that last dark cloud is a dying star. And soon enough, Xibalba will die. And when it explodes, you will be reborn. You will bloom. And I will live. Don't worry. We're almost there.