I have made my way with my tongue, out of the chaos, between the past and the present, and I have stopped at each word to look at the landscape. I filled my luggage with memories. I have immersed myself in the everyday, and the magic has dissipated. Those ways of seeing have crashed along the road, and my childhood with them.

The memories are veiled and revealed. A trace of emotion remains in that place where it is worth staying, even if it is very small. Ah! if I only could preserve those sensations; if only oblivion did not abduct them. "The memories are ready! You have to devour them." If only my childhood hadn't been one-eyed. If only my anxiety didn't change its form so much, and the energy that moves me wouldn't worry me.

I keep waiting for the signs, but in the meantime, I will cut what I am and let my roots take care of making me bloom again.