He feared the navy blue color would reach him, overwhelming him with a sweet melancholy. Through the crack of the Knowledge Gate, we could hear the sounds of a squeaky, bewitching beach siren. The defective bolt had lied about its use. The birds should have migrated smoothly, reaching the idyllic island of ancient

thickness, but no pain could describe the absent strength of tired wings… Fragility of calm seas… straight lines… Undecided raft of a chamber with a view. Gulls, seagulls and dying bodies washed up on the mattress in indecisive reverie. Cliff of the castaway, islet where to pass away, life wanders in front of danger. Lockers strewn with 

algae, swift hatching, light blue, reflection of an edge. Death who lives with electric sweetness. Farewell, Mary Shelley, farewell kingdom. Hello shore, hello memory, hello another day. The light passes through the slats of the blind. Fragmented vision of a store erased from the empty shelf. At a glance she kisses and is lost in doubt,

with a second wink she wonders convinced. Everything was to be understood, but nothing will allow it. It just had to be seen as an exercise in style. A thought that lets go and gets lost in the chromatic unknown.