Para la persona encerrada en la campana de cristal, vacía y detenida como un bebé muerto, el mundo mismo es la pesadilla.

To the lost, transfixed among the self-inflicted ruins, All that is non-air (if this indeed is not deception) Is agony immobilized. While Time, The endless idiot, runs screaming round the world.

For now we wait and linger on the opportunity that beckons our intellect to dwell into the submissive conformaty of our own idealism.

Refuse to allow discouragement to be a roadblock to your progression

Written By Mary-Jane

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