We wonder why we love mistery. Is it because we are a mistery. Everything about us. Our past, our future, our soul, mind, body...

Vices...all in us. Some hidden, some obvious, some convicted to death. Sometimes helping, sometimes destroying. Comes and goes. But they always stays. In our veins. In our brain. Our sweet adrenaline and struggle. Continuously. To make us feel the fake vivid life. Vices...

From suffering, everything is born. Through suffering, everything is healed.

Why do you love me?...he asked. She answered: because you make me feel love and loved. Because we are alike. Because I feel safe with you and a woman. Because you understand me. Because you are what I need. Because you make me feel alive...

Judging others in your own ignorance ends up by awaking one day that you are in their shoes as well

The satisfaction of winning/being a winner, comes with the dissatisfaction of seing losers

The satisfaction of winning/being a winner, comes with the dissatisfaction of seeing losers.

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Being continously a winner comes also with the sadness to see so many losers

Who was not broken? Early, late, in pieces or parts? Rupture is the divine gift that will always make you see things and feel waves that not all see or feel them as you do.