Conditioned to contradict, this freedom
Medium of existence which ends us
In a breath. Our greatest catharsis
No understanding, just doing – then not.
Know the creeping ebb of our lifeline
That which purifies is only oneself
What is purity but mastery lost?
When the gulls come seeking, we are but one.
Qué calor hace, incluso con fuegos
artificiales. Imposible!
Gritan, pero es toda la verdad.
El mar de calor
Esconde siempre nuestro dolor
Como una mascara hecho por
La maestra.
Cómo podemos llegar?
Sin destino, no lo sé.
– Daniel Robertson
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