On the platform next to the window, every night there is a few sheets of paper and a pen always with me , scribble paper jumps by the open door of the window, they are happy that they dont know that they are captivated by the heart of the stone, the wind is no longer awake, the night is my habit, the companion of silence, my loneliness ticks the clock , now I am left and a piece of paper that will be blackened by your name , everything in the end of life will come to an end. My eyes are wasted , I see the distance from the window, my heart shouts your name, I open the window door to the end, I fly with you in my imagination.
