'Night then gave birth to the hideous Moros and black Ker and Thanatos (death, the father of sleep, brought forth the lineage of Dreams, not lying with the goddess gave birth to them some dark night, and the Hesperides that, beyond dell'inclito Ocean, the golden apples and beautiful and take care of the trees which bear fruit, and the Fates and Kere generated ruthless in giving the penis: Clotho and Lachesis and Atropos, who at the death when were born to give you good and evil, which of men and pursue the crimes, the goddesses never cease from the terrible wrath before he had inflicted terrible punishment to anyone who has sinned. "
row Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos cuts the spindle plays relentlessly. Born from the mind of man are fatalistic fate ... this that nobody wants to admit its existence. The fate that drives things, the fatalism of events. Many want to rebel and go against this reality, they want to believe or pretend that everything can be done differently, which can change things. I do not know, maybe it's true, maybe not, indeed probably not. I have always believed in destiny, in the situations that happen, that happen and you can not do anything. In reality, those immutable or constant movement that leave you in quiet and sweet contemplation of the world around them. Sometimes rest perplexed of how life is able to restore peace and tranquility across ... how much coveted events and prove to be of concern to flow in the natural and simple gestures of time, leaving behind trails of delicate are lost rapidly from behind. Moments that we did not understand, or problems that seemed insurmountable walls, dissolve into memory more quickly than we think and leave a sense of emptiness and nothingness, a peace like we were immersed in the water off the coast of a bay covered by the shadow of the mountain. And all this quiet again ... as if it were made a knot to the wire and go on. The road suddenly becomes straight and go back to being that simple and straight life, the way in which we are bound from the start, again thanks to that thread of wool. How novel Theseus travels the maze following the thread and every crossroads, every decision becomes a little knot. Sometimes we are minutes, sometimes months, sometimes years at a crossroads ... then choose to overcome our fears and decide. Those years are the worst times because they made the choice to understand ... after the quiet is assured ... suddenly you find yourself on a path straight and clear and the only linear and proceed straight until the next crossroads. By the time lapse between the meeting of the junction and the decision becomes less and less ... is reduced because Experience has taught us that dealing with things in a hurry as soon as the door to a new peace.
Somewhere along the way ... and then find Minos's up to us to decide whether an enemy or, as Borges said, just be lost in its labyrinth as much as we are.
Before now I have only a line, who knows what will be beyond the first few meters I see ... I set.
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