The distortion of a life is often difficult. Accumulated storms. Ideas that make you dizzy in endless moments, involving the most beautiful. It escapes, like the liquid between my fingers. And yet the urge of a substance called hope rages against me. Letting her go would be a stormy mistake. But the greed of negativity wants to erase it. Making it shine would be a good way to fix everything. Illuminating the darkness, thus reinforcing the benign meaning of my life.