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Wandering with dreams in a world devoid of illusions, traveling guided by the stars that are feint by city lights, seeing stories in which men forget their origin, taking pictures for not trying to forget what they are leaving their memories reflected in pictures, setting aside his mind, preventing the clouds in the sky draw pictures that can not be drawn by men, memories that are triggered by smells, sounds, idealizations that are more than vague sighs in this world, images of people that are damaged or are being restored, some are still fuzzy, but the feelings he felt for them are still there, so strong and fine as the feelings they had for them.

I walk alone trying to be a little stronger, try to get away for not hurting anyone, making it possible to reinvent what I was, even knowing that the essence of the people does not change, recalling what I do not want to recall, feeling what I do not want feel, 'm just someone who dreams and can not stop dreaming, hoping that one day the pain is more tenuous, that my effort page dividends at least once, but I know that illusions are to be broken like glass castles and still are so strong to live in them.

Beyond the clouds and stars wherever they are images of ancient worlds created, there where the rain are caress and the sacred blood of a gorgon creates winged horses, where fire is delivered by a titan, chained to a rock for an eagle engulfed his bowels, there where myths live and men become heroes, a world in which the gods were more men than men, They are gods in which the possibility to believe in them exist.