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 imagine:

  Allis Fiction · Perceiving Me Recording I cannot perceive entirely who is it that I am. I am only able to follow certain aspects of me; the ones that happen while I am presently here, failing to follow what happened before or what may happen next. I am unable to truly know that I actually existed on the path that I believe I now remember, or that it will be me traveling along the roads of unexpected futures because I am only here, now. I cannot perceive at all who is it that I was or will be, but I can certainly elaborate all the necessary words to create or narrate my possible pasts along with my potential futures. What I cannot do is to state, truthfully, that something, anything happened or will happen. I'm compelled to say that even this here moment might not be happening either, even if I'm being witnessed by someone or something else; but I can certainly provide the words which bound together can create a story or an interpretation of what I was; a

  - Allis Fiction · MUST I HAVE A PURPOSE - And here I am again, laying down the words which will carry me forward and take you or guide you somewhere along the text ; a place which is meant to provide ideas, entertainment, characterization. This text which should provide content is actually continuing to provide information that some may find useful, others disturbing, many funny, many more useless. A means to achieve an end or to reach towards an ending. Isn't that what we are presently doing, carrying each other forward across the text which is laid down in here for you to follow, for me to repeat in here? It is not me, providing the words to you moving forward. The words were written in here before you or me could arrive to a certain destination. And haven't we already reached the destination? how is it possible that you and me and these words are being shared in a particular dimension, not necessarily the same way the text was meant to or in a shape that you expected and