Unknown

He stared at the young flames that devoured the curtains. He was reflecting, lost in a million of reflections. He reflected about nothing, thought about everything, about no one, about everyone. He thought in peace, far from everything. From the burning carpets, from the flaming furniture, from the exploding TV.

He stood up, walked to the window, flew out of the balcony. His mane waving in the void, his thougths flew free. They flew over crowded streets, green parks, charming lakes. He floated over nothingness, blind, deaf.

He suddenly felt he was thinking of something, something specific. He knew he wanted to go back home. He closed his eyes.

He opened them again, and stared in silence at the old flames that devoured the curtains.

Inspired and written (in Spanish) while I listened to "Touch me I'm going to scream Part II" of My Morning Jacket. Sponsored by my altered sleeping hours.

Insomnia

Original: spanish

Originally this text was nonsense. Now it is nonsense translated to English. Enjoy, and if you understand it (or find a serious fuckup in my language) please comment.

I can't sleep. I toss and turn, again and again. I try not to think, I try to think nonsense. I can't. Everything makes sense. Everything follows the smooth path of logic. The light that sneaks through the blinds lights the ceiling, the mirrors and the spiders. I walk a couple of blocks. The noise that sneaks through the windows is the music of a motorbike passing by, a car passing by, or the garbage truck stopping by. I can't sleep. I get up, walk to the kitchen and turn the lights on. And I open the fridge. No food, it was all gone the last time, but I had forgotten. I open the cereal cabinet, only to find some cheap rum. It's something. I go back to bed. I can't sleep. All the children are now surrounding me, staring at me. I can't sleep. I toss and turn, again and again. It's hot, I get out of the sheets. It's cold, I get back in. I turn. It's hot, I'm starting to get angry. I kick the sheets off. I get up, walk to the kitchen and open the fridge.. The light of the fridge lights the ceiling, and the spiders. There is no food, only some cheap vodka. It's something. I can't sleep. I stumble and fall on the floor under the look of the small crowd. I can't sleep. I go back to bed, but I dont lie. I decide it's a good idea to go out until I'm tired. I dress up. The streets are empty; from time to time a car passes by. In the heat of the night, I lose control, I lose my soul, I lose my head. I'm not tired yet, I run. A motorbike passes by. Somewhere in the city, an ambulance. Stupid ambulances, they think they're so big with their damn sirens and their letters on backwards. I pass by a kindergarten. A kid is staring at me. I can't sleep. I ignore why he is there so late. I look again forward, just to find him there too, holding a beach ball. I will run over him. He fades out but appears at my right side. The breeze that sneaks under the door waves the spider webs. I run faster, but they follow. I look back, they are more and more. They all have their beach balls. They all run. They all are silent. I stand up again, they almost got me. I fall again and they surround me. They stare, but they don't see. I can't sleep.

The saver

Once upon a time, there was a man who would obsessively save anything that he ever got to own.
When he was a kid, he never played with his toys or ate his candy. He would just save them. No sharing, no playing, no eating. Just saving. When the time came that he was no longer a child, he was the teen who had the largest and most cared-for collection of toys. He would sell it for a decent amount later on.

He grew up to become a student. He saved for himself everything he learned. He never shared his books, or his knowledge, and he took special care so no one would cheat in an exam on his expense, because he liked to save his answers for himself. When graduation came, he had the best marks, no one came even near to his average. He was so well prepared, that he could get the best job anytime.

He found a good job, and earned quite a lot. Nevertheless, he didn't waste that money, instead, he saved it. No pointless trips, no dumb leisure, no stupid friends, or dates with shallow women. It all went to the bank. Unsurprisingly, he became rich. When lean times came and everyone else panicked, he still had more money than he would ever use.

There is one thing he always saved, from childhood to his last days; he always saved his time. He dedicated it only to strictly necessary things. No foolish or leisure. Whenever he could, he saved his spare time. When death came, he became the most lonely and miserable corpse in the cemetery. All that time he saved, all those seconds and hours he did not "waste" went lost forever.

You can save your money in a bank, and use it later. You can save a toy, and it's value might rise as the years pass. You can save a secret and make some profit. But time ... time is waisted when measured. You use it or you lose it, you can never save it. Don't save, live.