Expecto Carnis Resurrectionem.

Or how long it takes to a body to decompose.

More than one month ago I talked about the street full of cats. Only one or two days later, one of the cats was dead, probably knocked down, on a side of the road. He looked as he was asleep, laying peacefully under the sun.

He's still there. He, or whatever it remains from him. Now he looks like a thin hairy rug...

(Where's the f** cleaning service in this part of the town??!!)

...and few days ago somebody touched it. Who touched it? Who moved it? Maybe children, playing with everything they find. There are blocks of flats only some meters away from there.

Expecto Carnis Resurrectionem.

That's what's written over the main door of the local cemetery. It's located in the same road, some hundreds of meters from the cat's body. That body is never going to be in a cemetery.

Is somebody waiting for its resurrection?

Is somebody waiting for my resurrection?

I'm afraid the answer is no. I've been tempted by agnosticism, but I'm afraid I'm completely, absolutely, surely atheist.

How could I believe in anything similar to the idea of a 'soul'? What's a soul? Who's got it? I've got it? When did we start having a soul? In which point of human evolution there was a monkey who, suddenly, had a soul? Who can believe that?

The last thing I want to do is to offend somebody. I only needed to say what I feel.

I don't feel upset for not having a soul. There's nothing to worry about. Sometimes I'd love to believe in all those things most people believe. Believe that our life isn't just an accident. Believe that someday we're going to see again those we've loved and lost.

I'm envious somehow. I can't believe that.