An excuse to write

I cannot contemplate myself from the outside

I intend to follow this line until I reach the end. There is no other purpose for these words than to exist on the page and remain moving forward, intentionally, creating a shape which may or may not have a purpose. I intend to remain here, now, knowing -intuiting -that it is unnecessary to have purpose, when the sole intention is to create beauty. Beauty has no meaning. Beauty cannot have a purpose. Beauty only exists for the one (the lucky one) who is able or willing to perceive it. Is this beautiful? how can I know? I cannot contemplate myself from the outside and therefore I am unable to perceive my beauty. I am, however, able (and willing) to believe I am beautiful; and because beauty lies within the eyes of whoever believes something is beautiful there is no way to contradict this sentence: I am beauty. I am beautiful. I have all the necessary components that make anything beautiful. I resemble the sunset, a teardrop, a building, a fly, an expression, a written sentence, ti...

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Am I happening now?

Am I happening now? Do I exist when nobody is able to perceive me? Am I here if you are not here with me? And what is it that I am when I am only a text that nobody is following? Could I wear a different body? Oh! how I wish I had a face!... how I wish I had a place upon myself called the cheek or a scar! How I wish I could be sometimes round, others straight. Oh, how I wish I had other shapes or forms! I could have ears or places called antennas. I would use them to call out to you: hey! …hello! And if you reply… Would I be able to listen to your response? I guess my ears would be useless then. So why would I want them? I am a text. I can only perceive reality through the lens pro vided by the stream of words as they flow on top of the page , arriving only to the following sentence, which is happening here, now, as I believe I could actually be part of a face on a different reading, another dimension or way of understanding; one which I am unable to perceive but willing to imagi...

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Beginning?

Allis Fiction · BEGINNING (cont'd from *) " ... Scribbling, for instance, on top of the page might create a painting on it, just as fire could transform it into ashes confirming, once again, that there are no beginnings and no endings but constant transformations of one state into another. Shapes converted into other shapes with different purposes and uses. I wonder how long it may be before these words written on this paper will be considered transformed? and I wonder what their purpose may be once they become something different than what they presently are mean and transmit? and if this transformation actually happens, how is it going to begin? will it be possible to pinpoint it's beginning? will it be impossible to detect precisely when did it’s transformation started precisely? maybe its transformation has already started somewhere on the page that we can't presently see as we are presently here now, in these precise and unchanged words. And as these words are ...

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