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There was once nothing

Stories and News No. 1028

A Rohingya refugee ship is sunk. More than 60 deaths are reported, although numbers are not yet official. According to the United Nations Migration Agency, they were trying to escape persecution in Myanmar, when the ship capsized.

We are nothing.
Sure, that's it.
Believe us at least now, look at us.
As if we were really here.
Consider all the elections, think about Germany, reflect on the right way of common thinking and see what happened on the left one of the country.
It's right there that people voted against us.
People watch as the bodies of Rohingya refugees are prepared for a funeral near Cox’s Bazar. Photograph: Damir Sagolj/Reuters
The nothingness.
For fear.
Of emptiness.
Even if it is a region where we are less present.
Can you understand the craziness of that?
Because we are nothing.
And suddenly we become everything.
It's a weird kind of magic, isn’t it?
That is, an ambiguous sort of spell that bewitches you, but it sacrifices us.
We are not the imminent issue, we exist in another universe, but we become the main problem in the same sentence.
Hand’s and word’s game so sluggish that should be instantly unlocked.
Nevertheless, it is difficult for an eye to find what is not real.
That should not exist.
We are nothing, yes we are.
Perhaps it would be good that nothing was not there.
Enough with the pain, stop to everything.
But maybe it would have been worst.
Because without that, you too would be nothing.
Really that, you know? With monitor turned off, a silent camera in the dark of the bedroom, lone under the shower and more than ever in front of the mirror.
So, we must go on stage.
Being the nothing.
Acting like that every day more.
Until the usual moment when we are so much an explosion of zeros, a soundless, invisibly colorful voyage on the rigorously behind horizon.
Here it is, the famous five-minute of popularity.
That is, of nullity.
The exact second when the curtain of waves and wind covers us all and writes the end word at the foot of our allotment towards destiny.
That’s how nothing sinks and dies.
Putting everything under the spot.
Nevertheless, after the brief time to honour the mourning that other futile extras are chosen for the untold show.
To be the precious nothing.
Of the world.



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