Parts Labeled On The Santa Maria

Roots

I like to know where we stand. Although I do not know where we are, I like to know where we came . If we go we'll never know.

roots, identity-crushing cage fabrication ingenious ambiguity as a comfortable background who can lead the mind in heaven and earth without which upset our plans shabby.

Equivoco sprawling to which you are attacking and they mistreat us to fear and dread of metamorphic existential turn, although they did not feel alien to that which was first our taste of anything but the passage already insanely wise.

We're here where someone who created us is said to nourish us still rooted habits. Here where we need to re-know each other without being ever known. Making use of memory because of this we're short on time. Time is a present that is offered as a gift only devoid of earthly concerns.

Instead careless disarray. We have no flag. Bandits. Unnamed. Knot-free and without combs.

We are direct from somewhere, in my opinion ....

I would like to a step in the right direction

I'm coming with you, on my way ...

Where are we

we are where we are.

where we

what where we

From where we came from, more or less?

failed?

Fainted. Sooner or later.

And where we go

to parry

or finishing

to justify our continued radical.

It's just a conspiracy of cartographers

Here we will not get anywhere

We've gone too far

We went

And then we have fallen because it is already poised

I suppose we'll go ahead and just

Because if we happen, if we just happen to discover, or at least suspect, that our spontaneity is part of plans of others, you will know you lost ..

And you know, time is not on our side.

watching us.

of us is the reverse cold

How many sockets can be in the world, the route is still only one, and time is the only unit of measurement ..

The human roots are carried away by the current. We are grinding from the weather. Assume anthropomorphic appearance only after the reason. Only the roots are root

Let

Where?

Everywhere

Perché?

.