Unde-mi sunt manierele?

Cateodata devin necioplita. O masa diforma. Abia daca mi se pot distinge ochii, fiind un fel de aluat, tot o apa si-un pamant. Habar n-am unde-ncep si unde mi se termina firele temperamentale, care sunt voci si care e doar mintea mea. Cand sunt asa, unii trec pe langa mine si efectiv nu ma vad. Un fel de prezenta absenta. O masa de cherestea neprelucrata, tare de cap, ce trebuie transata cu fierastraul, ca altfel nicio sansa. Iar cand ma comport asa, cu nasul la purtare, accept, cu sufletul impacat, sa ma las dresata.

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