Demptius

would you also be able to cry arriving where you called home, seeing every empty and cold corner without even the shadow of the one who left? I speak of these colossal absences that prevail and hammer at every moment a nail of anguish in the chest, just to make it clear that absolutely everything has lost its meaning and in the window of the planet only a sad and desolate landscape of remoteness reigns, the devastated and battered land by the sound of a wind that doesn't care to be bad, sweeping inhumanly the place where all the names you call by the same poisoned letters dwell, the place where each new face of the days belongs to the same ghost that for your nightmare and torture no longer haunts you.