I see the only warm lights that slightly illuminate and I write from a place temporarily unknown to me and to those who follow in my footsteps. I see the lights and I do not know in which part of the cycles that life offers is where I am, I see the lights again but I do not know what is going on in my mind, beating ideas, flowing in me and evaporating.<\/p>\n
I see the lights again while I listen to Gavin Friday's merciful song that drove me crazy 5 years ago and that although in the scene there were fireworks I felt them in my chest exploding gloriously thinking of you, as I have been doing every time some event of that time I remember. I see the lights again and whatever I execute takes me back, it elevates me, it illusions me, it pulls me, it hurts me, I move away, I block it, I block it, I encapsulate it in my chest, I chain it to my memories, I regret it and I loathe myself for the fact.<\/p>\n
I see the lights for the last time and some kind of agonizing intensity comes to me thinking about the misery of life when deciding to remember intimate sensations of the past, which turns into admiration and astral gratitude towards the minimal capacity that human beings have to connect so much to the past. I turn off the lights and go downstairs.<\/p>\n