Today I opened my small closet, and took out yellow papers worn out, I lost her years white, and played the hand of time, I got it This is a life that is almost like a passing cloud in the summer. It is

O wretched ones. Dream of the lost heart and the obsession of the mind. How much did he search for you in passing the meager memory? O wretched ones years fold the pages of our love and time referred to

Let us pause for a moment and look at the pages of the past. Then we will regain the longing of the fugitive years, and we will recapture the glow of the days that have been forgotten in our carelessness.

The time of stupidity and frustrations made me a heavy guest in my world. I am immersed in the sludge of silent silence looking for myself on the site of the foot I pay through the successive assassinations.