The same games repeated countless times until they

become “personality”. Then I don’t remember anymore

how to be creative invent ways to escape boredom and routine.

When I was a child I’ve set up my toys and created

my stories with more imagination.

Did the world lose all the great things?

Or did I lose the capacity to see new things?

No. We were transformed in ordered tools

that repeat the same incessant sound.

My games have repeated and they look

more and more like everything around.

Until the point I knew so little about myself

that I needed to turn on tv to know what to do.

Seeking satisfaction we arrested our senses.

We trade the pleasure in our bodies for the illusion of mind.