This Must Be What It

All Stories Are Like Those About The Creation Of The Universe, No One Was There, No One Witnessed Anything, Yet Everyone Knows What Happened.

I Had No Books At Home. I Started To Frequent A Public Library In Lisbon. It Was There, With No Help Except Curiosity And The Will To Learn, That My Taste For Reading Developed And Was Refined.

This Is The Effect Of Panic, A Natural Effect, You Could Say That Animal Nature Is Like This, Plant Life Would Behave In Exactly The Same Way, Too, If It Did Not Have All Those Roots To Hold It In The Ground, And How Nice It Would Be To See The Trees Of The Forest Fleeing The Flames.

The Beginning Is Never The Clear, Precise End Of A Thread, The Beginning Is A Long, Painfully Slow Process That Requires Time And Patience In Order To Find Out In Which Direction It Is Heading, A Process That Feels Its Way Along The Path Ahead Like A Blind Man The Beginning Is Just The Beginning, What Came Before Is Nigh On Worthless.

When All Is Said And Done, What Is Clear Is That All Lives End Before Their Time.