in the valley surrounded by mountains I stagnating in the certainty of sound, it is a matter of time, forty years ago I was not aware of the problem, to appear, here and there, be by, you come out not turn round, I turn right, forward to a meter, I'm still the same, control subjects in an upright position, breathing on, I am, when the next time, impossible to say, the variables d environment are too far removed from the reactor core to learn about the intrinsic value of wet perspiration average, so I have to myself alone, I still have a compass that tells me the north, where my fate leads me the eternal cold, or return to the heat inhuman, or rather out human, outside of consciousness concerned, panic on board, anxieties are parties, the blood flows in the veins, while walking in the right direction, to live is there, but why the land that welcomes the dead, why the sky does not fall on your head, why me and not another, I do not play with dice, lucky bounces sometimes where I am, it explodes in my head light of full certainty, to look at here is the door of the individual, alone with the empty, waiting to tank, I'm not worried, I have a small car, a small vehicle calmly takes me from top to bottom and vice versa, looking for balance, it takes years, the time lost innocence, reality invades the circle, it becomes square, any reason, just ask who am I, to the bottom shelf, to be or not to be, that is the question, I'd say well, you poses the question,