Postcard

Here is the umpteenth fine for parking; I thought the Volvo was immune; I had to wait it, last night I dreamed of business cards, ties, and registered papers, I feel them around me, I feel them on me; I hear the rustle, I imagine the accumulation up to an unbearable weight. Yes, because they are things that are not thrown away, you put in the innermost place, in a folder and accumulate. I heard that dreaming these things means change, probably a bullshit, and every time I dream and think, I say to myself: curse still change. It will never end.

Shortly before finishing a construction, I need to find the time to free the desk from the practices , to use the table for draw and print postcards. Just as when you leave from a place, I feel the need to say, perhaps even just to myself, that I was there, I try to make a summary and a check, a comparison of what was desired at the beginning of the trip.

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