The chronicles from the black nights

"My eyes wide open get submersed; I'm deeply asleep. I'm under blue water...I wake up in another land. In another world..."













The water of the night reflects the cold in the Glorieta de Bilbao.
It's 9.45 pm in Madrid; but it could be anywhere else...the wrong is not the place.
The wrong it's me.


The electronic coldness of the metro tries to talk to me about you, but it can't: I'm deaf, blind and broken.


How are the days of my life? Where I'm going? Where are you? Why are you so? Why this incomprehensible nuage of sorrow?


If your shadow will take forever...if your shadow will take forever...