28 November 2005
15 November 2005
4 December 2005


In writing and reflecting upon what one writes, one sometimes learns more from his inner self than from the spasmodic search for something new.

Sometimes we pointlessly look for something which we already possess but which we unconsciously deem lacking.
In the act of writing there is always something unforeseeable and not previously established.

It is as if not only one’s ideas end up on paper but a sort of reworking of them, determined by factors which are external and independent from one’s own will. It is as if one’s own thoughts fuse with a part of those thoughts that cross the universe and with them a new idea forms that really does not belong anymore to oneself or the universe.

This new idea becomes so material that one can reflect again on it and through it can again obtain something original and again unexpected.