Is simple.

I want everything.

Imagine this,one day you wake up dead,God knows why, you are just dead and then there he is,the one that mommy and daddy pretty much refused to talk that much with you in the room about him even tho the irony made it for them to curse his name and use also his name more or less in vain and look who was facing him.Exactly.You.He was nice,oh,very nice,almost kind and understanding like and old man,who knows,maybe he was the opposite of the Bible or the extenct of something bad to come,we will never know but then when silence occured,he asked if on your last breath of your dead soul "what you want?" and you in a second say "everything."He lost it.He lost his senses and with a silent chuckle he asked something else like "Why?" and you obvious "I just died,obvious I want everyhting now that I am dead."The Devil made big eyes and let you rant even more "Like a reincarnation?" and you may seem pretty odd at this question,a feeling that you wanted to go away but you already answered "Made me what I never was on Earth when I was alive.Make me everything."

C.M.Ciocazan

Indeed,I could eventually start to write with some very old pride as he did since he was a Romanian stuck in his middle sanctity to critique many people by their own pleasure.He had doubtful eyes when B.P.Hasdeu came at him and just asked about a spiritism meeting in a friendly way since they knew each other exactly for too long,more or less for not that much.B.P.Hasdeu lost his daughter Iulia and he was a very dedicated person towards the value of God but this was the only way to step over his sins and talk once more with her.Indeed I could add up about this person Ciocazan many other rethorical things and say he was an ignorant with practical thinking but an ignorant with such a large scale of how he saw truly the word spiritualism and Christianity in which he needed to write.To write and wrire and stop when he saw that he was wrong the whole time,how to describe the spirit?Mathematic?Drawings?By words in their own sense of mind.He took his friend's tragedy and made it into books only to proof that B.P.Hasdeu wasn't insane and him also,the most insane of them all cause he started to write what the other felt was wrong but in his mind,was the necessary mistake.

Nothing I,you,we will ask . We are too selfish,to into the abstract of our beings to care what problems to solve . Oh,oh,oh,we don’t believe . Is the era in which we stopped and what an era.If you would show to someone a rusty old lamp they will say you lost your mind,your goddamn mind and they will push you aside . So selfish and then our trust fades and our believes as so .We stopped believing in such a miracle since the creation of the Earth . So nothing we will ask and nothing I do wish because I am the genie in the lamp,the one to solve but to destroy,I create my believing and so,I can destroy it,making people call me crazy.I am the genie and nothing I will wish,cause I am selfish.

Let's start like this,very simple,I am writing.

Dear diary.

I am blind,how the hell am I suppose to write?

Sounds so childish,almost obscure but I think I need to go straigh up by talking with myself in a room about...myself.A little pause for a welcome anticipation.Let it slide please.100.100.100 years,100 goddamn years passed and everyday when people pass me and tell me how "lucky" I am to live in such a high standard worth-of-shot place like this hell hole ,I need to stop whining and agree that I am a lucky blind man.

I wanted to have a very long testimony,I want to die.

100 years passed and I feel like nothing changed since the civilization went down the hill so bad it kinda made me realise at my 40s and something that we started to wait until the technology to grow up as a need sanctity,as a new God towards a very sick and damaged system but how,but how in the name of the Lord forsake we went into the 1800s with horses and cariges and people still craving money like we need some kind of devil to worship at the church every Sunday?How we went like this so low but in the same time,predictable?

I was mumbling for myself since I was a kid that we will fly even higher not crawling for some bread like the last of the fallen horses now riding them?How we died and went to some places even Dante being ashamed to walk among the dying corpses of some people that are asking themselves the same question just as me,but they are not stuck in a house talking and talking and wondering why.Maybe they are doing things,showing concerne,acting upon the whole situation.I still remember how my dead mother told me about 2018 and how her mother,god please don't beat her that much about her sins,was something else.Was like a pleasure to stay and a horror to live but to make a very doubtful comparison with 2119 that looks like those old tv series TABOO or hell knows how are named to look like some fanatic fantasies and this miserable point is the reincarnation of Satan itself.

I heard a knock at the door.1 time.2 times.3 times.40 times

"Morgan Freeman.Your trial is ready!"I heard some voices behind the main one.Gulliber McRodding.The city chancellor.I am blind and a dead man,God please hold me tight and don't let me kill them.Not today,please.