day Today I thought I would write again, I had so many ideas bubbling in my brain, but suddenly I forgot all of them. It seems that only the voice emerged. I just hope it’s not the voice of my inner dialogue. I wish it were the voice of conscience. Only it can say what it is. The rest is in prison of the opinions of others. Or the internalization of what is said and done dressage with shame. Almost always the shame and vanity are the omnipresent teachers. This leads us deeper into oblivion. So deep that we come to ask ourselves whether we really said this or that, or if we actually did this or that. Then we read what we write. It is our inventory (the beginning of awareness), and then we found what we said at that time. And we had forgotten. It’s so easy to point out contradictions in others, so difficult to recognize our own contradictions. This is the most radical unconsciousness that produces irresponsibility.