to a narrow passage, after a light, is the kitchen, I got up in a sweat in the middle of my bed and night, forgetting the organization j'évacue a fear of death, it is four o'clock in the morning is the time of death sentences, is it mine, I doubt I'm not old enough to die, even though I know at my age it can be withering, a story that ends stupidly, that life is bad, we would have us believe that life has meaning, just go to holiday in Syria or Libya today to understand that life stops abruptly without explanation, because in these countries just leaving home to get killed, while in Europe it is most likely to get run over by a madman, so we expect the bus, waiting until it strikes while waiting we played cards