My head is always full. Full of words, faces, voices, music, landscapes, random thoughts. My mind is always writing something, introducing stories, people, places, worlds. I regularly have bits of dialogues, discussions, coming from nowhere. People are living in my head and don't even care about me.
I thought it would be fun to share what they say to me, what they talk about (sometimes totally ignoring me).
One day, a man had the need to tell me about his story. I know nothing about him, but he just told me some words about him.
Sometimes I wonder why I was born in this world, at this moment of the History. Did I change something? Did my mis