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and what's new in that... the resolved issues are useless... just like the brittle texture of the skin and the old flesh beneath it... only a long yawn succeeds this sort of inevitable self-disappointment... If only we had paid attention to what the books said about people like us... now that even the beauty of peach trees in bloom doesn't seem real enough... our eyes despising the mirage of golden citadels that hover in the mist over the horizon. .. there is no point in listening to the bizarre ringing emitted by the electronic bells of cathedrals crowded with despair... we pretended that the howl of the wind passing through the blades of leaves in the cornfield was not an omen... or that the insidious gaze of the dogs roaming at dawn weren't enough of a threat for us... time to ignore the details of the irregular pavement that lead to the entrance to the holy field... ignore the sincere litany of those who came to mourn the people we should have been... to despise even the monotonous parade of these black automobiles, already tired of driving us in silence... to pretend that the restless birds filling the cypresses with their morbid song do not know our destiny... we will not notice the sweet odor of the votive candles burning and extinguishing its weak light... let's forget everything in the name of the serenity of this distance... let's respect the stony and sepulchral silence of this abscense... of this moment absolutely full of absence... time to return silent and defeated to never more.

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