Literature is a story, a story and therefore takes time. We sit in any time with little legs hanging out watching our routine and our daily life and suddenly ... another time, pushing the previous school. Hereafter the previous sending puffs away, far away ...
Suddenly, the usual time breaks and slip through the crack in the surprise other parties, other dimensions, new facts that turn the focus to the protagonist and the rest becomes landscape ...
Life, life was beautiful before that suddenly ... then it has been grim and hurried back, or perhaps, life was happy and quiet and after that suddenly . .. became happy and Sundays.
time breaks. Folds, unfolds, is split, multiply ... The fact there is no time and then after that suddenly there is a before and after, an alpha and omega as the Christian story of St. Augustine ...
Chance suddenly is a magic and chilling ... Causation is an official suddenly and effective ... Chance is a suddenly infinite and necessary ... The duty is suddenly mercilessly and suddenly all those force us to look in another mirror. Because when something happens to us suddenly , we are not the same. We play other cards and are in another story, another time with other players ...
Literature tickles us with stitches based surprising suddenly evening or dawn surprise ... like life itself.
Are you ready for your next and suddenly unknown?
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