Chronicle of the Apple

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Marina was small, but bold. I wanted to understand life and talk about things in the mind as people talked about time. He knew that the soul was like flowers, that they bloomed in certain times and that in others it was necessary to die. It was not yet spring for Marina. After a few years, she returned to her psychologist, more full of ideas than before. He spoke as much as he could and said more than he planned. She was dizzy and fragile. Marina was touched by the universe experienced in a therapy session. Your body and mind got sick.
She was confused, hated not having control of what she felt, distrusted the mystery of the figure of her psychologist and wanted to know more than she should have. Ignorance is a blessing for those who want to live in the dark. Marina wanted to open the window, but the light blinded her. She stayed in bed. He studied everything he can about the unconscious, went to look for traumas and even wanted to understand the flawed act. He read about repetition, the meaning of gestures, instincts, impulses and the love of transference. She felt everything she read, thought she suffered from all the symptoms that existed and was sure that she had already been aware of her unconscious.
Marina wanted to bite the forbidden fruit. He fell in love with the mysterious figure of his psychologist. He went crazy, censored himself and forbade himself. But prohibition is tempting, and temptation is a blessing. Marina wanted the red apple. And what harm was there in wanting her? But love was not love, it was the possibility for liberation. Suffering precedes spring. She needed to blossom, be reborn and redefine her existence.
Her psychologist responded with silence, she missed him, and the lack made Marina rethink her desires. The love that Marina had felt was the love directed to learning. The psychologist had a supposed knowledge function, but the knowledge about himself was in it, and he could only understand when he managed to live with the lack. Marina cannot eat the apple, or bite it as she wished, nor feel its sweet juice running down the sides of her mouth. The apple tree gives flowers in the spring and fruit in the fall. It was spring time.

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