Bushnellelitearcrepairs

Postcard

I left a lot behind me.

I left in another sense, too much love to go away, but in a selfish sense, then abandoning, in different ways, different paths, different choices.

I left behind me pages of books up to the loss of scented nose, I left their lives acute brilliant and less brilliant teachers, mentors, brain buttons.

somewhere I left friends and confidants, people close and intimate as holes in the pockets of your jacket green dearest hope.

I shed for the black earth trampled vivid memories and intense, like a ripe fruit than it should, over time led to a kiss desired. I left small pieces of white bread in milk for those who want to find myself one day.

I left behind me nostalgic tears and seasonal items that they knew of archaic trips, first loves and first clashes of philosophy.

I brought with me instead, each teaching philosophy. Any collapse of Newtonian physics, geometry and analysis of each fall at the hands of Frege and Russell, each category, including causality, all pessimism and existentialism, even the mechanism ... although they are basically pure dialectical virtuosity. I brought with me rare photographs and never comprehensive, but highly indicative. The first time I made love. The first time I felt my body dive into reality every day. The first time I walked equipped with a simple black dancers, blacks fisherman pants, shirt, black bow, light green scarf on the sand, thinking how perfect it all step by step for free speech and spending. The first time I have if the product, the first time that I have been se-duced. My first battle (never supported war).

I have inside me concepts and precepts, many thanks and a few surprises, other deductions and insight attempts. I have in my summer love, a desire for facial expressions and face splashed on the Sun, clouds above her head velociveloci I scorran flushed - a little scene with Donnie Darko Siori, who can take the salt air under the eyes as a kind of fresh herbs, pure and innocent, dirty trousers sappian gently sand Let them confidence that has run from the sun while lying to toast synapses.

open hands to catch the sea.

open hands to gather the thoughts of us, ...

bystanders who weigh too much to have lost his mind in the art too.

Searching for a time deliberately lost.