What Ladder Do I Need

wrote. It was a single panacea, a progression that is guessed (I felt, on those afternoons or mornings) brilliant. But losing was also an option. And I lost.
Now, in the mud of this strange gestation, six days of his thirty-six, I do not see the plain, tundra prevents rediscover the horizon, the same as in other opportunities, sponsoring warm breezes.
The memory of my grandfather is stronger than ever.
may be, here, now, and the massive projection of the universe mortuary unfinished forms prevents me see your smile. Perhaps
me, who is entering his world, to its final level, and still do not know.