No ice. No grip. No horns. No. Just no. Ice melts. Ice burns. Ice. Just ice.
Have to die to be born. Died yesterday. Freedom starts today. Freedom! Again. We started here on a deserted beach of sand, water and waves with the sounds of incomprehension.
I was lulled to sleep. I woke up in the stupor of discontent. I left no stone unturned. I turned them all. I lost god and all the other chimeras. I disappeared and no longer exist.
At first, whenever I get here, it feels like home and it feels like hell. I close my eyes and imagine what surrounds me; above all I feel alone, betrayed and let down. I close my eyes again and I start drawing. It is time to build a new house.
It was time to throw old ballast overboard. It is done. It is starting to be a ritual,it happens again and again. I recall Loreley and all her seduction, and how very often this old sailor falls for all of her even older charms. It is good to draw a line on the sand, and it is good to cross that imaginary line that I erroneously believed to never be able to cross. I crossed the line. It is done. I look onto the bay, it is night; the day just began.
I keep counting grains of sand. Day in, day out, I count grains of sand. It is midnight.
Zero in heaven, minus three in hell.