The dream moves the world. The rooms no longer correspond to reality, the rooms became corridors, corridors on corridors, in silence. So many voices in my head but a single sovereign one brings back the order. Your voice.

Langage no longer makes sense, pronouncing your name but no one hears. My voice is forever silent for the fear of waking the dead. That’s why I know that everything can be forgiven, and it would be strange not to forgive.