EDITANDO OITENCECINCO VEZES. POR PRECAUÇÃO

"As I limped down the street every window broadcast a command: Change! Purify! Experiment! Cauterize! Reverse! Burn! Preserve! Teach! (…)and all I had in the wrecked world was a needle and a thread, so I got down on my knees, I pulled pieces out of the mess and I started to stitch them together. I had an idea of what a man should look like, but it kept changing. I couldn’t devote a lifetime to discovering the ideal physique. All I heard was pain, all I saw was mutilation. My needle going so madly, sometimes I found I’d run the thread right through my own flesh and I was joined to one of my own grotesque creations –I’d rip us apart– and then I heard my own voice howling with the others, and I knew that I was also truly part of the disaster. But I also realized that I was not the only one on my knees sewing frantically. There were others like me, making the same monstrous mistakes, driven by the same impure urgency, stitching themselves into the ruined heap, painfully extracting themselves (…)"

ESSA IDÉIA DE SE ARQUITETAR UM COMPORTAMENTO A SER ADOTADO (E NUM TERRENO DESSES) ME AGRADA PELOS MESMÍSSIMOS MOTIVOS DA LOBOTOMIA SEM SANGUE.  DOS BLOQUEIOS CONFORTÁVEIS DA MEMÓRIA.  DA MEMÓRIA, ALIÁS, PODE-SE COLOCAR DESTA FORMA, VULNERÁVEL.  DA MEMÓRIA PRONTA A SER MOLDADA.  LIXADA.  DA MEMÓRIA IMPLORANDO PARA SER VIOLADA, PORQUE DEVE, PORQUE FICA MELHOR ASSIM E PORQUE, NO CÔMPUTO FINAL, OS VINTÉNS VALEM AS TRIPAS.