Extension of a branch fallen between the wet moss and furrowed by our uncertain steps among the trees who move the cathedral of mystery, without horizon. The measure of things is missing, the breath of everyday life is missing, in the dark green frozen by the thin clouds that reshape the shapes with a humid pride.

In the invisible sea where we wander, mixing instant fear and convulsive pleasure, between saline repulsion and voluptuousness, shifting the boundary of one’s self that fluctuates and never stops. Suffocated by a dull and distant sound that deforms and suffers, enjoys, dies and lives again, always remaining a little high and suspended.