Stories and stories told by mouths that are bigger and louder than the thoughts that lay speaking softly to the wind though the heart cannot capture the true words that spill from the blank eyes of the subtle senses of the human mind. Poetry and the beauty of words that touch the inner perfection of speech for a diary of pages and the ink has no time to spare for another word on its page and the stories are getting closer as the words are spoken by man himself in his adventures of his unemployment and he remembers it all so well as gifted a magician can rise or the shutters of his brain have been closed too long for him to hold on to his memories in fear.
Dreams have long been a question mark in every answer as they change with sleep as tired eyes can never refuse. As far as the dream can travel, must we shake the boat that carries us still along the rivers of the sky, for the sky is but another world and another universe and we are the passing clouds today and tomorrow.
These tales of a journal that dug the earth so deep, making the perfect holes in the grounds of reason. Written by parallel and poetic verse of the mind in the gaping hole and the days of this journal could be the setting of freedom by the hands that chained it in the beginning.
This introduction is not necessary to understand this diary of dreams and desires of the soul but this could be yet another adventure among the restless scramble of words in an illusion.
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