David Hidalgo

work in progress

Prologue: As a fellow reader and writing enthusiast, I think that the purest form of writing and creating a story, is by having a conversation with someone, anyone.

Language happens as you speak, as you read, as you write. Even silence carries narrative weight.

Simply by existing, you are forming a story. Thought becomes matter. Matter becomes memory.

Writing is legacy. A mark that persists beyond the body.

On my travels, I have found letters and fragments that live on, preserved inside this small capsule of space and time.

Let this be an excercise of existence, a monument to life, a sentence to this eternity and hope for the many souls of this universe. The words that you are gonna read from this forward, have been caught in a radio station, behind a lonely star. This small radio station has written messages through time and space, and may these messages be found, let us know by placing music in this space that we call life. These notes have messages in all languages and shapes life has felt to be neccesary to create a story.

- Identity -

- Becomes -

- Nothing -

and then everything is...

Date: 1 / 6 / 2025

The state in which we know identity and concept lies in no solid foundation. Facts and opinion became blurry when discussing the identity of ourselves. Millions have toyed with the grand ordeal and colossal task of describing and giving the grand solution of the definition of what oneself is. Do we become or are we something already? I do believe that we are many, not encapsulated by words, actions, stones or photos, but an amalgam outside of our understanding... Be it the “soul”, “breath”, “core”, higher self as some may put it, cultures around the world have come to an agreement about something which holds our value and dignity which is also “pure”, or godly. d We become tied to the names given to us at birth, and that, still, is an outsiders denomination. And do we want to achieve clarity of ourselves for ourselves or for the sake of being understood by others?

Then we speak, we grow. We are children, then students, some lovers, others dreamers, but in that change we carry something inseparable from ourselves. Our memories and name will chase us as the first immortal truths about this world. Earth will remember our breath and energy, from the unborn to the dictators, but this humanity will treasure our names. Maybe a group, cult, club, sport, will blind the question of “who am I” but that is only a bandage to a bigger wound.
I think I will become love and order so that my descendants can live peacefully. If that takes away their complete free will, then I give them the free choice of a decision. May themselves choose who they are. Identity will become your sword.

- Be thankful that I found you a shape. It was either that or someone would see you in the hug of a mother.

- Se não consegues entender isso agora, eu te ajudo. Tu és aquilo que governa o coração da humanidade.