Stranger to everything ? Stranger to you ?

I like incomplete things; animal fossils that lack a skeleton and holes in the text. Filling in the blanks carries with it a kind of anguished stupidity that would like to explain life to us but prevents us from imagining it. The right answers, right?
We have them, we find them, because we are so scared. In these jovial and humorous times, we do what we can to swallow the figure of death, but there is a kind of
stops at the throat, don't you think? I love the Eldorado of my little imaginary dictatorship and I dream of a world where my beloved imbeciles would never have a say. But
this time I take it from them; I give it to them. Your complacency is your bullshit, remember? And your cowardice is your way of life. So, in memory of us, in memory of you
In mirror of us. In mirror of you.