>>6278565But i know there is an escape for me: to bring back the sweet wish of being buried into ground, to relive my love for "her", my repressed sufferings and the euphoric feeling of death. My friend, former judge, advised me to write everything that happened and give the confession to him, who'll be my attorney, so that he'll have it for the last phase of the court process. I don't know what use my attorney will have of it but it helps me. Writing, i feel that i'm still alive and the thought of my inevitable death terrifies my conscious less, which whispers to me: thousands of people are dying now on Earth as we speak, common folk and great people; you can't say that you didn't live thirty five years at their fullest, you shouldn't strive to live anyways...
Maybe this confession will surface one day, together with my "The Era of the Bastards" essay and i'll live on through the people that read me, not only through my daughter because families die too, sometimes so fast that it justifies the existence of these artists that let themselves be devoured by the demon of creation and don't have time or don't care about the temptation of spiritual immortality. Because culture is a form of life, where a human collective expresses its creationist power.
