we have cut our wings with the teeth untouched by earth of ancestors
we have remained empty skulls waiting for autumn on the branch of the tree of genesis from which we know ourselves of good and bad like two snakes devouring each other in a ritual dance
the music is transparent and optional like the life of a child
we hate our shadows by the fire in legends in the core of the iceberg that immortalizes them
but we love ourselves
beastly
beyond sense
we foolishly complete our phrases our touches the game like two soles stepping one in front of the other till the end