It will not be my desire to conquer ancient empires, nor to prevent a cowardly retreat, nor to venture into unknown lands, but simply to renounce the piercing illusion of one who believes they can return to the same place they once departed from.

When I pass a construction site, I avoid walking beneath any ladder that suggests a deadly scalene triangle, and I pray that along my path no fatally black cat crosses my way.

Even though you insist on denying the affection you hide inside, it is enough for me to pause in your gaze, and at once I know you return it.

Others will come who will keep in their hearts the same useless longings, the same unsatisfied desires, the same foolish ambition that I have.

Your cry rose above the silence of the graves. It searched, in the deepest recesses of souls, for the will surrendered to fear.

On the other side of the continent, on the other side of the ocean, on the other side of the world. In the farthest place that exists, there is a country where everything belongs to you.

Because without your name I am incomplete, because your name hides my memory: there will always be a trace of one in the other.

The traffic code of the streets, a date of birth, my years of schooling, the career they say I chose, the periodic table and its elements.