In the temple of "irrationality".

There has to be something strange about wanting to explore the dark side of reason in the summer time. Apparently, I did not get enough after a hard year full of ups and downs. A bit more is needed here.
I am intrigued about the discovering the multiple sides of rational thinking and how these are categorised in the name of universal rules that are accepted by the vast majority of mankind.
Minorities, always feared, have the space that modernity has created for them. I am talking about a sacred place where minor opinions can develop and live free from judgement. But such a place is far from being paradise. As a matter of fact, it remains so unexplored that it ends up becoming fictional, Utopian, not real.
Can we change something from this "non reality"? Of course we can. Actually, we must, that's why it's so important to cultivate the freedom of expression in our societies and let our darkness breath in the light of enlightenment. Because if we opt for buring it, it will end up becoming a dangerous idea that can turn the dream into a nightmare. Again...
So what's up with curiosity? I must follow it, there is not escape from it. I feel the urge to nourish it, the rush to build my opinion before others impose it upon me.
So I guess that..."Bad medicine is all I need".
Maybe because my mum never read to me those fairy tales with happy endings before going to sleep, I always found love too boring according to those scripts where the roles where defined from the beginning. Just one way out of those high towers. Where is the adventure in there?
Everything was sort of grey until Arthur came with his rebel attitude and his revolution of absent and nights full of torturing passion. mmmm.... Despite the suffering involved in it, I found that that was love too. Well, not quite. It was better; it was the reinvention of it: He represented the fire that burnt the ashes of rhymes without rhythm.
After him, there was no more white cheeks and generous breasts....Gosh...No more virtuous ladies waiting for some knight in his shining Armour. Thanks to him, the damsels of fainting look, red lips and moonlight smiles disappeared forever. So did the charming idiots whose only experience in life was based in the hope...just the hope of kneeling in front of the princess to, magically, live happily for ever after. Or some stupidity like that.
Thanks for the purity of sex and its fire; for the truth of the ugliness, of the need to explore the limits of our capacity to endure, to drawn into the awareness of feelings translated in the worship of every curve in which to die every night, to pass out in every second of giving in carelessness, fearless, breaking every limit known and unknown to us by the unmasked lover of our fantasies.
Thanks for the death of love and the discovery of it.