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Part I

I am just a post, an answer to a non-existent question, an answer to a question I'm waiting to be born. My words don't exist by themselves, they're small pieces of a big book that grows continuously. These letters could be a part of a question, I am the answer that could become an infinite number of questions. Each word that grows from the silence of the void waits for a call. Each one sits in a big shelf and waits for a passer-by. I am an infinite waiting to be found, because I can't exist by myself. My words are teared apart, and chewed, and repeated, but still survive like a wound that waits to be healed.

I am the credits from the end of the movie, that wait for the characters and for the movie. I am the words of a song that doesn't exist yet. I am a word from a book you've never heard about.

Maybe you'll never find me, maybe I'll die waiting for the question, but I'll wait. I am behind each empty search box waiting to be found by the machine.

Part II
I am a question that wants some attention. Don't be fooled by my brevity, I compress signs, meanings and emotions. I am someone's intentions, thoughts and dreams, I am the voice of someone's silence. I am the quest for the perfect question, the stairway to the meaning of my own ideas. I try to find the perfect answer, but I also try to find myself. I am the discoverer and my own discovery.

The book contains pieces of me, but will I find myself there? I am unique, even though I look like a lot of other questions. My answer should not be like the rest of the answers. I know he's waiting for me to save him from the silence of his own immensity. He fills my meaningful spaces and expands my brevity, he's the story of my own incompleteness. I am the story of his own meaning.

Even if my answer can't be found, I'll wait for a better machine that understands my spaces, my emotions and my uniqueness.

Part III
Questions can be recycled to make better answers. Unneeded answers can be cut and stapled to become questions. The shortest path between two ideas is a question that waits to be asked.

I breathe words, I wear words, these words are a part of me. I also write a book from people's weaknesses, inspirations and lies. They write it without even realizing. Their disjointed ideas wouldn't survive without my book, because they need questions that make them complete.

There is no limit to the number of times a question can be asked, but it's not the same question. My labyrinth of ideas needs questions to create connections. The answers transform into other questions and I have to push my book throughout eternity.

I am the past that tries to build the next step, I am the spaces that anticipate the answer to the meaning of life, the universe and everything. I deliver imperfect answers for imperfect questions. I am a post-modern mix of thoughts and after-thoughts and I manufacture inverted connections.

This text, including this very phrase, has been generated automatically by a computer program.»

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