Introverted upon myself, lying in my bed and staring at a light, right above my face; I observe the wavy smoke of the incense burning next to me passing in front of the lamp as it was weightless, dancing. What if I was to weight that stick of incense before I burn it and after it had all been consumed weighted again all it disposals, including the bit of wood left and all the ashes. What would be the difference of weights, the weight of the smoke itself?

I more than ever think about my life and how I want to conduct it, what path will I choose? Will I ever choose just one? Interrogations and a glimpse of what I want to do to fulfill my being cross my mind, and for a moment I believe it is possible. But first I need to break the chain of inertia and stagnation I’m submerged in, and start my walk…