I am an incomplete paragraph. I can express, using these tools, all that there is to express; and yet, I shall remain incomplete. I can believe that I withhold all the information that is available. I can re late, using different combinations of words, all the different stories from this and other universes, told from many diverse points of view, and that will not change the fact that I am incomplete. And it is not because I don't have enough space or memory but rather because nothing -no one -is able to perceive me entirely: I can be seen only in this moment, here, but I cannot be seen here and somewhere else simultaneously. Once your gaze sets upon the following sentence, whatever happened in the previous one remains only as a memory, a point of reference, an introduction whose only purpose is to serve the following sentence; each word being only a vehicle to guide itself to the following one, not necessarily expressing something as a whole but rather giving way for each word t

  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, time,

    I will always wonder if anyone, something, will ever be able to understand these sentences, but as long as something, somewhere is able to understand them, it means that they exist. Or is it? …Do they exist? What do they mean to others? Why is it that something, somewhere is repeating them? What has brought them here, I wonder? What are you doing here, again, repeating these words? They must be of value somehow for you and I honestly appreciate you taking the opportunity to consider them as such. And because regardless of the motives which gather us together at this moment I invite you to reflect: What it is that we are doing now as we follow along the composition? What were we doing before arriving here, in this moment, this brief space of time? What will we do after it is over? Will we remember each other? And what would we remember and how we would remember it will never resemble the present state of the composition, as you carry it forward, understanding each one of its