Vietnamometre III / a crab at the end of the road.

Would it be appropriate to ask ourselves about the intimate life of an animation, for example that of the old and worn out Donal Duck? Possibly we would find ourselves in a blind spot, something disturbing in the overgrown land of the contract, and unable to find their origi!!!n in nature, envestiríamos at any point and once involved we would continue to ask. What would be the appropriate way to connect sensibly with an animated fantasy? Should we avoid the low blow, or should we go straight to the effect? Launched to look, the phenomenon could surprise us anywhere or leave us doubly desolate, should there be something else? Should.

We feel the empty space and confirm the presence, surrounded by a spectrum, we find ourselves looking for a clue, but we have no trace, we turn around, we become the expert hand of the oblation, we fumble for the space, we take the scalpel, and we press to find an interior.

We do not even find the skill of modesty, nothing that allows us to suppose the origin, no act of exclusion, nor of inclusion. Even a call to decency, less still the missing link of the story of love or indifference. But how impudent is that of the question by the digestive tract of the intestines, or the conduits that derive from the organ of the bladder !?

There is no sign attached to the passage of a effulgence. No earth, no extraterrestrial, no superpower. Nothing that indicates us the use of the organic functions of a body, neither emptiness, nor trace, nor waver, even the flight of the shame.

No pleasure, no transcendence. From end to end, a perfect movement without hesitation without regrets, without the material of opacity, in absolute terms the contract of an indissoluble utopian culture, in the above esplanade of the spectrum, as surgical as the next drink of Vietnamese coffee that I will enjoy with the nerve centers of my body, in the city of Ho Ian, while I watch the old Donald Duck cartoons on the back of the television, and as a mix of toasts, fruits, cereals, and condensed milk.

Tomorrow morning I will make a trip of three days to Ho Chi Min, to the district one there is a place called ENGART HOMESTAY, it is an English school, they will be waiting for me to do a volunteer, I will have a shared lunch house. I will do alternative works, I will teach English through songs and at the same time I will have the opportunity to continue studying with the classes of the other volunteers. Beyond that: I have no idea where I'm going. I just interrupted something strange while having breakfast at the hotel. The lady who serves us coffee, has started to mourn in the kitchen, the situation became too intense, we are all wondering what would have happened, then a very distressed into the dining room accompanied by the boy English translator. He has turned off the television with the usual animations of the old Donald Duck. You may not believe it, but the boy told us while she continued crying, that we stop drinking coffee because they have found a crab still alive in the coffee pot.