I am a question that wants some attention. Don't be fooled by my brevity, I compress signs, meanings and emotions. I am someone's intentions, thoughts and dreams, I am the voice of someone's silence. I am the quest for the perfect question, the stairway to the meaning of my own ideas. I try to find the perfect answer, but I also try to find myself. I am the discoverer and my own discovery.
The book contains pieces of me, but will I find myself there? I am unique, even though I look like a lot of other questions. My answer should not be like the rest of the answers. I know he's waiting for me to save him from the silence of his own immensity. He fills my meaningful spaces and expands my brevity, he's the story of my own incompleteness. I am the story of his own meaning.
Even if my answer can't be found, I'll wait for a better machine that understands my spaces, my emotions and my uniqueness.
Part one | Part two | Part three
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