Beyond dreams, a wise lake, watching my absurdity, of playing with the tyranny of absolute. And I am trying to remember, who had said, that the core victim was me; in simile, to a drowning boat.
I remained, a small seed, still waiting till eternity to find a thread of light, which should reach the depth of the dust, the stone the water, awakening me to send my radical, going down, down into the evasive words.
