Whatever the motion around me makes no sense. The hours get shorter. Nothing important is happens. Colourless images. Life is missing. When I do not see you.
Whatever the motion around me makes no sense. The hours get shorter. Nothing important is happens. Colourless images. Life is missing. When I do not see you.
Ordinary tourists in this world we forget to live the journey. We are looking for the stations. Yet, there are others getting lost on our side. The seconds or thirds are the victims, however, also the others who don’t belong but are born in the losses.

A root buried deep in the Earth. A country degenerates into the ignorance of its inhabitants. An enemy on its walls. Revelation call. Confrontation of truth. History weighs on generations.
Calmly the images are changing. It looks like a walk.You know. To ask for things. All yesterdays become a stepping stone. They support. A tomorrow.

Night. Battlefield. You relax. Unattended shifts. A civilian. You let the enemy. He easily enters your lines. A different kind of life. Yours. Without a copy. Blessed absence. Gravity. It wins. Unknown words. You should. You should not. A bright darkness. It embraces images.

Sometimes you can make fun of time. Hide. The movement of others makes you move in the peloton. You pay attention to every little detail around you. You make mosaics with the images. You dream with your eyes open. You can. You feel like you live.

You are traveling. Without looking for the fire. A tourist. You devote time. You live free. Away from shadows, you discover the new light.

An invisible thread. Ties the tomorrow with you. You never meet the end of it. A face. Can answer. Questions never asked.
Many in the centuries. Hermes of the few. Aspirations with compost lives. They bear bad fruit.
Lacking words. Hushed distance. The eyes shine antithetically. Bodies compressed. Behaviors. Parallel lines. Ravenous breathes. Searching. Next to others. Grasping as much air as they can. To unify the mouths. Midway. In one sometime and one tomorrow.