And after all this, is nothing but the vain breath of eternal fleetingness. The dissonant cadence of dark vibrations that direct a heart, this heart, to God knows what chasms. It really is nothing but the coming of a square wheel that crushes projects at the pace that strengthens illusions, leading us, I do not know at what time fugitive, to this immersing ourselves in the nothingness, fills us. Life-death pushes us down paths that, seeking to be consistent, blur into endless macabre grimace. ... HOW LONG?... ... WHERE?... is what moans the absurd clock that strips us in front of the sea, to understand that immense blue uncertainty is the only truth. But behind this short, resentful parenthesis between the waters and the glacial current pushes me: I live fleeting, sore and changing, although I do not even know that it sustains me.