I have a huge confession to make: I’ve always had more trust on people who were good looking. That was until I learned the lesson the hard way. Now it’s the opposite, I have less trust the more good looking they are. I feel quite comfortable with that approach. No regrets. You can’t trust beauty.

We all come in with a generous slice of innocence, and it seems that it is others that take that slice and eat it too, leaving us forever corrupted and lonely, struggling to recreate that innocent spirit and fighting against being doomed by our own hardness.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know you, and I’m not going to start a conversation with you.’

I’m not expecting anyone to extricate myself from diving into a pot of sentimental soup. I like soup. The game of extricating chairs will always leave you in the cold. I don’t like games.

When I have a fixed idea that I want to take into reality I may think I had begun realizing it on a specific day, or even hour, or in the very moment I revealed the wording from my unconscious. The fact is that I may very well be already in the middle of making that idea happen before I realize of its beginnings. I think the point is in taking it to a place of arrival, regardless of when or where it departed from. I believe things may have an end, but they have no beginning.

No expectations.

When I think I’m experiencing the first moments of relief after a long period of worry, I begin to worry about the ending of that relief period.

Look at yourself boy.