looked bent on the cliff a quarter of a worm that moved as he was impaled on the hook. A can of worms that was bloodied by a column of flies feasted. And I wondered: is that all the world? A huge feast? And this life eaten by worms, flies, baits that choke fish, so people who die by chance after spending their lives watching TV or going to work, or to please their bosses or their wives, or do gardening. Or simply abused throughout their lives. A useless nonsense dance where blood and sperm are mixed repeatedly without end. It was then that arose the fateful question. Without the smell of the church, what of the ego. What of my once I die? I mean, trying not to fall into the trap comforting the soul. If everything is organic then there should be I, but only human, only a whole without ego. But no, end up in this farce without a sense I have that I makes me subject. And once dead, then what sense does it have had this or against this latest mockery of life. Might as well let us be born without a global bodies of a whole without subjectivity. Why Me? Then the worm he's got the ego? And if that is the sense that we have? What is the point I have to be a worm wrapped, cut into small pieces and used as bait? He probably has not even the perception of being an ego, perhaps his brain structure is not capable of an ego, so maybe the ego is only a distortion of human brain structures with more developed brain. Another mockery of life, which tells us you exist, no nonsense, just you, with your self and everything around. And so one day, without sense. You will die. Just before your self.
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