by Homero Graco
No one knows, actually. But this is the gasoline for our motorcycles.
We plan big and achieve another target, huge. Or fail miserably and start over again.
Certainly will occur tops and flops.
This is life. There is no script, no destiny, no religion, nothing that can hold you back.
A chaotic forecast, impossible to preview. Although an exciting ride.
Choices are presented to us, every day, hour, minute.
We have the free will to pick one, wondering that it is the best option.
But, who knows?
We aren't equipped with any prediction capability at all, just naive presumptions of what can be better for us, in a blurred point in the future.
We fall in love with vague promises of a paradise that -maybe- are only possible inside our minds.
We deserve all the best and do blind life all-ins.
Long-term plans, hard work, overnighting in awaken dreams trying to create the real sensation of a possible but not totally probable scenario.
No one knows, actually. But this is the gasoline for our motorcycles.
We plan big and achieve another target, huge. Or fail miserably and start over again.
Certainly will occur tops and flops.
This is life. There is no script, no destiny, no religion, nothing that can hold you back.
A chaotic forecast, impossible to preview. Although an exciting ride.