On not blogging

I have achieved the dubious distinction of not writing but once a month! What an honor! As Gaiman says, in a magnificent advocacy of recursion, the best description of the story is the story itself, for it then becomes the whole extension of the reality being mapped through that description.
Hence the lack of blogging: what can I say, there more stories piling up in my todo list everyday, there are a lot of questions there begging to be asked, and yet, I don’t want to be a target because of my thinking and my writing. So, the silence.
Perhaps reality has become too asinine to even consider? Perhaps the world is way too complicated to waste time explaining it; perhaps it is just so simple, that a mere description is already the whole story – and who likes those stories, anyway, in whcih nothing makes sense, nothing happens.
I am waiting for the sirocco to end, so I can finally breathe.

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