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I had no lineaments from my past, the dots only remain.
The microcosm of my memory is full of constellations,
Being reduced the number of inhabited planets;
The cold lines are drawn through the gloom of my verses without any drop of life.
I've been pacing out the corridors of silence,
I've been waving my hands, I was solidary with those who fight against windmills.
The despair was my impending tomorrow 9 00:01;12,000 --> 00:01:16,000 And I had no fear neither to meet it nor bypass.
Now I'm pure, only a puzzle-pated wind blows in the back.
Nothing is behind, all gifted has been survived.
Let me be an impudent skunk on the group portrait
A thing yet unexperienced is the sweetest one.