THEN10t0418en

this text was supposed to be written on 17.
somehow it was started at 23h59 of 18.
it's not too late. it's not too soon.
it's late enough to me, because i thought i was going to write it on 17.
and exactly when i started to write, i didn't know nothing about what to say.
all i had in mind was the need to write.
a calendar.
an agenda. made by myself, to myself.
something to do, without a reason.
and you know: a week is over.
another week is over.
a strange feeling to know the world is expecting no words.
just a vulcan, a simple moment of expression the planet earth has to tell us all how simple life is.
it seems there is no harm to no one.
just earth talking to us.
just a little... big speech.