This is a test to the most dangerous writing app. I currently don't even know what I will be writing about. The only thing that matters now is time. The now, and whatever comes to mind. Actually, five min is quite a nice amount of time to write. While I keep on doing this, things start to set up on the mind, looking like a gorgeous and peaceful lake. Isn't that beautiful? I never felt that! Never, emerging from writing. Writing is bringing up peace to my mind. I wish I could communicate the happiness I feel right now. I have spent the whole day at bad humor, almost discussing with anybody who dared to stare at me... and yet, now, forced to write, by chance, in this random act of kindness, I found peace. Writing is delighting peaceful. What-else I could say?
I will... I now remember... Yes! Yes! keep up with me! I remember now a long time ago when I tried to organize a series of poems of mine, a large book with a bunch of hand-written poetry which I turned into "my masterpiece". I remember I wanted so much someone to go read through it. My mom, as a math teacher, told me to talk to Rose, a language teacher. At that time, I had prepared a few trial poems, like a small selection, so she could read and get a taste-glimpse. And I remember selecting a draft which I wrote during one lab lesson. The lab teacher spent some two hours talking about lab safety. And during that boring talk, I just took a piece o paper, and draft a poem (Oh my g... my wife is talking to me now... and I am like, -Wait, Wait, Wait. How can I explain I have only five min? And how to explain how this app works, and how it might erase all I am writing? Agrrrr... Ok. Back to the lab poem.
That was a very random, crazy, chaotic and meaningful poem. I thought that one was hard to go through. And I never expected anyone to like that one. But, impressive, Rose took that one and told me something like that "-Oh my goodness, I always wanted to read something like this! Frenetic and strong and chaotic, and so full o meaning at the same time..." She had some unexpected light in her eyes. So, lesson learned. That day I understood what "subjectivity" means, and also became impressed by the impressions a poem can cause in someone else.
Done. Five minutes! Victory!
b.b.