Whenever I go there everything is changed

The stamps on the bandages the titles

Of the professors of water

The portrait of Glare the reasons for

The white mourning

In new rocks new insects are sitting

With the lights off

And once more I remember that the beginning

Is broken

No wonder the addresses are torn

To which I make my way eating the silence of animals

Offering snow to the darkness

Today belongs to few and tomorrow to no one