If There Is Something That Opens Horizons,

With Maternal Love, Life Makes A Promise At Dawn That It Can Never Hold. You Are Forced To Eat Cold Food Until Your Days End. After That, Each Time A Woman Holds You In Her Arms And Against Her Chest, These Are Merely Condolences. You Always Come Back To Yell At Your Mother's Grave Like An Abandoned Dog. Never Again, Never Again, Never Again.

Humor Is An Affirmation Of Dignity, A Declaration Of Man's Superiority To All That Befalls Him.

Disease-carrying Thoughts Swarm And Multiply In The Dark And Twisted Labyrinths Of Our Minds, And All That Is Needed Is A Mob And A Good Political Slogan For The Epidemic To Be Spread Once Again, With A Burst Of Automatic Weapons Or A Mushroom Cloud.

I Sat Day After Day In My Little Room, Waiting For Inspiration To Visit Me, Trying To Invent A Pseudonym That Would Express, In A Combination Of Noble And Striking Sounds, Our Dream Of Artistic Achievement, A Pen Name Grand Enough To Compensate For My Own Feeling Of Insecurity And Helplessness At The Idea Of Everything My Mother Expected From Me.

I Am Weak, I Say With No Presumptions. I Have No Merit, I Note It, That Is All. There Are Times That I Feel So Weak There Most Be A Mistake, And As I Don't Know What I Mean With This, I Am Not Going To Say Anything Else