He rememberd the blue sky and the blue sea, the Islands an the archepilago. Nostalgic blur, he think, the heaven is grey, all is ashes, I blame you, he whispered, I blame you for these.

Before water there was this nothingness, before oxygen there was this ominous Light. And now, lonleyness, from here to the horizon a dark luminous air filled with silence

The dancer, I have seen her before with bare foots, it was like a mirage over a desert in dust, bloodred sand, swirwling in her motions. But that was before. Now in the lost jungle in a dead town everything feels like a dream or like a forgotten life in a beutiful memory. This is bad. This is bad News.

The Duke says that we are free, but we are never free, we are always in touch whith the invisible net. I’m free says the madman, but ho nows, maybe he is the sprider and everybody wants to kill him.

Athen, 44 degrees, dark kubik houses, no water. The town is empty. 60 degrees last summer, dead town. I can’t remember. Some people told me about an outburst. They walked like zombies, trying to forgive and forget. The voices hard to understand, my memory is like ice, melting softly.

The second place was dirty, the People where ragged, someone was screening out loud. He stod still, quiet. I the air, there was a louminous Light, a sleeping schimmer of nothingness.

the first thing i remember is a black noise, a black noise and a desert. i have some clothes on, a shirt, a pair of black muddy trousers and a pair of exclusivly but very uncomfortable sandals. the black noise, is it real, the desert is it real. is this before or is it after. i remember the rain and the water and the wind, and then the mist. the foggy cloud and the mist. if i remember something it probably must be after. but my inner instinct says to me, whisper to me, that this is before.