The truth is that no matter how many shots you fire with your plastic gun, you will never be able to crack the sky. If you think about it in practical terms, living in a fish tank isn't as bad as it sounds. You can divide the hours of a day into walking around the neighborhood and lounging in the creek. All we need is a small space where we can do whatever we want until the battery runs out and it's the end of one thing and the beginning of another, and that's if we believe that spirals always lead to the front door. You are alone with a breathing machine connected to your veins and no one will come to see you,but you still occupy a space that you wouldn't occupy if you were invisible and that's something I like and you hate. You envy the blind and also the deaf-mutes, you wear sunglasses, earplugs made of corrugated cardboard and you cut your tongue with a cloth spoon, but it grew back a week later and you had to say a Hail Mary and give a history lesson in front of your classmates. The point is that no matter how many scoops of chocolate ice cream you put in your beer, the women you meet are going to take your soul, divide it into lots and build a building for all those who need a rooftop from which to commit suicide, even if you find a rubber band to erase the memories of the nights you spent sitting in a pool of dirty water. I know you don't understand me. It doesn't matter. Look where you are. Look at what you've become. Nurses and doctors always move in the same direction. What a joke. This place is like a rerun show. Everything stays the same. The only thing that moves is your mind. I think if they took away your ability to imagine you couldn't survive. You just couldn't do it. You could lose anything. I swear. You can lose a leg and they can replace it with a stick, and if you lose both of them you can use a wheelchair, and if they amputate your hands you will drive with your teeth, and if they take out your lungs you will have to stop smoking, but if they take away your ability to imagine you will never be able to fly again without resorting to amphetamines, nor will you be able to go from Moscow to Beijing in the blink of an eye, without having to get on a plane, without having to wait for your luggage in an airport queue, while a little girl cries because wolves and foxes can't be good pets.
YOU ARE READING
I.C.U
General Fiction"Debbie Harry and Kurt Cobain; Luca Prodan; a city that burns; a freckled girl who leaves; a war on a mysterious island and a cursed writer are the flashes that run through the mind of a teenager who suffered a motorcycle accident."
