AM I?
PRIVATE SPEECH Once I was in my room trying to objectify a reality with my perverse imagery. The room I was in was fresh, the walls were painted with appropriate bright colours to help develop some sensorial skills, some pictures were hanging on the walls as witnesses of their own impregnable value, and however that room was missing its pristine state. There was a rectangular and wooden table in the middle not as a decoration, but as a fundamental tool of the room’s atmosphere, there were chairs around the table and as it always happens I chose the best one to sit on leaving the other two for those pessimistic companions; fortunately they never arrive because they are afraid of themselves, they have many pretexts in order not to participate in my banquet. Naturally and logically there was a chair next to me, on the right side, it was loosing its functional connotation by keeping only the representation of an ontological reality only named by conventionality. I was trying to talk to