The monster under my bed

I always wondered why humans among all the other animals around the nature need a bed to sleep, sometimes when I don’t have much time to think about such important things I respond to myself like: bah! Is just because we are smarter and also vulnerable, we need shelter and this and that. The true is that it has a totally different answer and it is hold in the deeply shadow of the human nature. I found that we need a bed to strain all of our fears and thoughts to the ground, is the same process you do with your coffee, you need to filter the coffee to get the good thing. In our case we are the coffee and the bed is our filter. Let me explain you the hard process.

  1. Start to live your life: You will find that almost all of it is a cycle. You wake up, stay awake a few hours and then you go to sleep and wake up again.
  2. All the things that happened during your few hours of vigil get stuck and are recorded in your brain.
  3. You go to your bed to rest, but what really happens there is that you are filtering all of the things you lived thanks to your bed, that great flat square filter.
  4. You wake up feeling good, rested and with enough energy to start the process again.

So what happens with the things that you by the power of your bed left behind to feel good? I realized that all the things you filter during the night fall to the ground thanks to the gravity and that little space between the ground and your bed serves as a moneybox, if you filter yourself all the nights of your life probably that moneybox will get full one day and it will have the power to pull your feet or put your blankets off the bed, you probably will think oh god! I have a monster under my bed, but the truth is that what happened there is no more than your dark you trying to come back to you.

The old one

How many times did a city die in the hands of man, movies and wars?

I have heard nagging, rhythmical complaints of diluted pipes and carcinogenic clocks.

They want to be listened for those who has no earthly time, concerns and polluted passions and it seems a symphony every midnight imploring to be renewed.

But the old houses, buildings, tunnels, railroads and sepia lights don’t pay attention because they are old, and so it goes.

The city wants to die because that is what the old things do. It moves and eat and spit out her own guts every night and her own sounds and measure lights make the people believe that is alive.

And she wears the name of New while the time scattered her intentions. But it’s not her fault, everyone once in life hang on to something that don’t want to let go.

Only the old people can’t sleep at night when they have been through hard times, that’s why we all leave the lights on for her, because she is just waiting the perfect time to drop her bridges and say: Hello Gojira, nice to meet you finally!