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The perfect convict, without a name, without thoughts, destined to obey in a universe that weighs my mortal soul on the scale of immortality, I was born to die at the silent demand of my parents who wished to live their future by passing on to me genes that have no future.

The signatory by absence, I question the duty to be born in a simulacrum world, where no one chooses but is merely chosen.
Granting me the role of a colorful character through a manifesto-oracle that signs as fate and solidifies the dogma of a foolish fanaticism of believing in a world that appears differently, I was forced to assimilate the excess from the Absolute because the merciless fate was written with a quill right on my skin that holds the bones of a scoundrel.

Brought into a world that wants me to parade as a good individual in a collective that leaves at the entrance a ticket where death, nonchalantly imitating an accountant, signs with legible, firm handwriting under our date of death, I was not given the strength to fight, so I am heading towards a disaster disguised in a concept that tries to give life value and meaning, simulating the death of a body destined to return to the earth.

A curtain rises, I choose a little chair and look at the screen that presents me as an banal, a good-for-nothing, a child born in an era where men hide in their own bodies. In a surreal play with landscapes from a world that has no truth, I am the actor without a name, without a country, without a shred of future, because the drama playing on the floating screen seems to be that… I am an impostor.
The film hasn't even started well when a procession of servants, stepping imperiously on the carpet, announces to me that death has chosen my day to die and urges me, without shame, to go out into the corridor.

Resigned, I carry my being towards the corridor where death awaits me with the actor's ticket and shows me the short path to the floating paradise where I am again awaited to be part of this horrifying cycle: to be born against my will, without clothes, without eyes, in a world where life has lost its purpose, on the day when it sent the first man to death.
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