Sudden confession

I am living the not so secret anymore dream of being able to quit and retire writing and taking pictures, and becoming obscenely famous. Now, please! Then I remember about the rent, the car, the bourgeois little details of my lifestyle, and I resume to going to the office. As I sit there, sometimes pretending to work, sometime delaying things of urgency, I am imagining there is a job that pays tons of money, a job more interesting that mine, and more easy to be done. And that someday soon somebody will offer it to me. In my dream I am taking that job and there is not a trace of the usual complication.

I am in a state of delay bordering stand-by. The first year of the ten I have to show who I am to the world has almost expired and I am nowhere closer. Other than that all is fine. I might decide to impress everybody with my humor and pointless sparking conversation.

As far as honesty is concerned I find it increasingly difficult to speak my mind, mainly because I am embarrassed. But I am compensating with metaphors.