Nobody even cares about them except for those who care about them: the day that something was supposed to happen, something astral, we’re not sure what. Maybe bumping into someone you barely know and mistaking it for an old friend, yes, these streets do have historico-hystericospectral elements lodged in their stones, and the desire to control one’s self is always specious, I’m sorry to have to announce in this lonely context, where no one is really listening although everyone is alert and ready for the next holiday declaration.

Everything matters, the writing. In the shade, I smell your anguish but would never chase after – I am too superior, there is much to be lost. Me and a dream of the common man… The vampire that plagues the refuge. You seep things up, play the victim quite well, I could really care less, it is your fault you are breaking. Grams of hope dissolve in the water… I am on my way home.