We are a little bit of the whole world. We are the people around us, the news we read, the gentle breeze blowing somewhere in the world. The tired face when we woke up early in the morning and couldn't keep sleeping. The clock that tells us that we are too late, or too early, or that we are in the wrong year, in the wrong time. The answer in our hand, without even having the key to decipher it; the melting reality; the cigarette smoke of that man in the next window, which we dislike but makes us want to smoke next to him. Let's fly, spread your wings/hands; and remember that your hands serve to hold on to your principles, but they also serve to send people to hell. That monster called anxiety that came to stay taking advantage of all the time that our door will remain closed. Yes, maybe we need to see things in a different light, with different eyes, with other lives. Perhaps this reality is too suspicious to be true. Perhaps they are not things that float but things that sink. Everything is so fishy. Perhaps, perhaps, Perhaps ...