I don’t see, neither the sky nor the horizon. I don’t see, the lips who are talking to me. I am fine, fine… . The whole day. This cloudy weather… . They are living inside me. No matter where you are, no matter where you live. It’s time to grow up. It’s time to have a mature understanding. The feeling of exile is doing nothing with your homeland. I am waiting for somebody. This is the only window in the world, which belongs to me. Agony of separation. Colour of separation. All of a sudden, I found my self as a part of an alley of this city and became as moody as it is. Flying with feet in chains. Among book-shelves, in paintings hung on the wall, in the mass of memories. I still keep going forward with my failure. In exploring of lost spaces. City of a thousand colours. Too much of talking, too much of talking, too much of talking within my mind. I found that no one is inside. I have no clue. I have no clue. Fear. And the wind constantly blows. In light of rain, in pure sun. What an annoying noise lives both inside and outside of me. Looking for sun. Looking for lost spaces. Inspiring by scents coming from the past. And I picked up her shadow on the wall, and I take it with myself everywhere I go. Yesterday the wind carried out the sun to a distance faraway. As far as I remember, I have lived in discrete spaces. Surrounded by home, thought and heart. The time that you can not sleep more. Darkness. I have to take out the root from the very bottom, I have to climb up, I can not reach the sun and the light doesn’t reach me here underneath. In spring the gardner returns again. Feeling of doing nothing. Can it start raining? I am thinking of a roof to live. A permanent roof. A dreamy roof. Am I dreaming?