Forget what must be done, The “thing” with which we eat, Evolve like the sea, wild, sensually blue. May the water flow and move around endlessly, mixing everything. May the grey be dirtied by pure colours and the forms clash with the truth, in this desert of hope and confusion. Wild but not brutal, just like the grass, the rose and the violet. Defying time, they blossom to touch the perfume, which is for no-one in particular.