This is an abstract from my short story 'New York' about a young guy, musician, living in New York and questioning life.
No, no, no. Nothing is good about hate, rage or fear.
How shall I call you?
How many names do you have?
Small part of my brain that isn't controlled by chemicals and neurons?
The unique part of my DNA?
The love of my life,
The total freedom,
The genius and talant within me that I can't even comprehend or control?
The light of full moon at dark night,
Little piece of hope left in the far corner of my heart when all logical reasons have failed and died?
The freshness of an early summer morning,
The smile of blue eyes,
The open door?
The little miracle on Christmas Eve.
The big miracle on Christmas Eve.
The American dream come true.
Te gulp of cold water after a long marathon,
The blood and bread.
The first take of air when I was born,
The non-human beginning,