Five first lines of the third verse of this poem typed on the left page of a notebook, while on its right page various little doodles have been drawn, a pen, and a cup of black coffee.

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Doodling, too, helps me to remember.

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Everything that I might be

“Existence and the self are subjects that fascinate me; I’m obsessed by all of these layers that seem to shrink into the smallest dot that might exist.”

Everything that I might be
Though in this body, I feel this incapacity
The incapacity to shake myself up
Right from the start, when the sun rises
For I wake up to forget everything that I might be
I then search within my mind
This wondrous mind of mine
Forking deeply, digging, searching
For that missing piece hidden deep,
That one clue that I need to find
I want to remember when day comes
As the sun showers its light upon the world
To remember all of my movements
Of my first sound and view
Of the first waves and its foams
Reminiscing about those lost hours
And eidolons, first cities, of faces
And of the cyclop slowly opening its eye
While it sees this world for the first time,
Sinking deep to become ours
I know I’ll search endlessly
While my body and mind grows
On top of mountains, over seas and lands
Every day I’ll learn to construct
As to one day rise up and remember
Everything that I might be.

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