Of the small particles of "emptiness" this earth is made Of the small particles of "silence" - the sound is that pretended to be wind... to deceive me. To lead me into "nowhere", To the essence of this sad planet.
Everything weeps here. Quietly, silently. The sky is painfully pink. It smells of rain and thunder, but they do not happen here... Here the sky is bloodless, like a pale maiden on the cold bed. Who drank life out of her?