Lately I'm obsessed with numbers and, fearful of falling into the capitalist maelstrom that surrounds me, working in Seville, epicenter of consumerism, I chose to attribute other functions less economical and more enjoyable. I guess I inherited from my mother, who dreams of numbers ever since. She gets up every day with a number in the head and then it's showtime. If Paris, lice, the pretty girl, bull, dead ... there's a whole repertoire worthy of the most eccentric tarot and Baroque. Next - not quite know if Pythagorean theories, speculating nigrománcicas or simply because the number does not like what my mother enough change the order and if he dreamed, or thought to, "with 74, launches the Bold Lotero search that "has the 47".
I do not sleep with numbers and, if you dream, do not remember. I do not care, I do not like, I never liked. Maybe that's why I can not understand my newfound love of playing with them, shape them, looking at the color and smell slowly, as if to wake up if the breath closely. When there comes a numeral in my head, twelve, for example, will look for a message not culturized, meaning, my meaning . And multiple, best, raised him to the cube or rest for him, which also suffers the evils of the biological clock hormone, other numbers can get pregnant and end up giving birth to the 288. Nice, right? It seems strange because, as round as it is, if I can hug him kneel much any of its edges, where to look you turn out to be flexible.
At this time I have grown fond. For rare, hard or flexible, but I've grown fond of him. I guess I'm sorry to be changing, soon no longer be the 288 and becomes the 287, which is also nice but not the same. Anyway, it will become equally and will the 286, 285, 284 ... to get to 24. The magic number as 24 which arrives instantly, almost metamorphic, is 1.
And then I write even if it means not type a single number: "I have one day to go on vacation."
The video for the Chapa because this song, as the detective , is worthy of him.
