32 THE LAST TRIP

32 THE LAST TRIP

A trillion of trillions of years later …

Frustrated of my ingenuous revolt, after-taste of cheating the mekhanes to survive and I undertook the longest and distant of my trips. To resigned to leaving myself to kill for the omnipotent Thecnetos. Every thing was foreign to other things that were surrounding it. The landscape of ruins did not have bottom(fund). Already very far, I saw the evening scratched of black and long shades. I felt once again this unease of being too remote and lost, too anonymous. Not to know the one who I am know that it is this conscience that I am. As after-taste of being an unconscious substance to be conscious of the unconsciousness that was surrounding me? To walk and to walk along this incessantly new and foreign topography, for streets that did not know me and that at once forgot me.
Things like that were making me understand that the world was doing without me, which was foreign to where it(he,she) goes. Or to where it(he,she) returns. That was a uselessly alive(vivacious) being.
I felt in the heart that I was not taking part of the vastness, which was minuscule observing it and crossing it. But for the totality that surrounds me it(he,she) was not counting. Only it(he,she) was taking given a few seconds and a few meters, and while it(he,she) was walking had to leave them always behind.
I felt also this precariousness that we are called " the reality ". If I forgot the way of return, or this stairs, this man of marble, this worm-eaten lintel of every day, already it(he,she) might not feel that he(she) was I itself. Only by fleeting sensations we are seized to the world; a bow as weak as air fact. And only they were chances, and if I was coming untied of them, I might get lost. My memory(report) also is done of arbitrary details, besides chaotic. It(he,she) might soften me one day, awakening and not know me without being able at least what things were I been before and ignore what had lost. Probably the explanation of which the modern man does not know anything is rather that has forgotten everything. Probably only a few seconds ago I knew the one who was, what was the transmundo, the Thecnetos or the conscience and already not more.
And nevermore.
Only for a vain memory(report) fulfilled(filled) with foreign things, he(she) supposed that it(he,she) was here and now. Only for this thing that was almost at all, I was steadying myself in me itself.
Too far it(he,she) had travelled and feeling this inconvinient anonymity as an urgency growing at the back of me. I felt like in these nightmares in which one looks for his(her,your) house and this one has disappeared. I lack name and face, so to return what was calling my house, it(he,she) was liberating me of this feeling, there it(he,she) wanted to die. These stones, these metals were fixing me in me itself in a time, though they were details doomed(condemned) also to disappear. This distress prevented me from continuing travelling.

Because of it I hurried in returning. On having come for the street, I recognized the first ruins and statues relieved in the same place where it(he,she) had left them.

But in the final tour, some things were not, and I worried.