A blank sheet of paper and a pen

Men spend their lives 

fleeing from themselves 

for fear of being alone

in front of a blank sheet of paper

with a pen in hand

and no thoughts in mind

The escape of "timeless people"

Many of us don't have time, space and energy to dedicate to ourselves, to our daily discoveries, to our concrete happenings and existential stumbling blocks that we dodge with punctual, rigorous and unthinking dexterity. Overwhelmed by the weight of this burdensome lack, our walking becomes an escape and our living turns into a compensation. And then, in such relationship with the world and with ourselves, our happiness can only be reduced to the sterile and illusory opening offered by that frenetic expectation and that inauthentic action that represent the existential extremes between which the consummate pendulum of our inner life dances unknowingly, more and more dejected and dull: a life increasingly emptied, imprisoned and annihilated. But is it really a problem of time, or space, or energy? And what about choice then? What about courage? And will? What about priorities? And strength? And truth? In short: are we really unable to live otherwise or, deep down, do we breathe a sigh of relief at the idea of not having time, space or energy to try to follow an alternative path? What if it was us the first ruthless accomplices of this bloody crime that is consumed invisibly and silently, every single day, within ourselves and, consequently, in every single gesture of ours?