Everything is always the same. The rest, a limitless background on which movements are useless forms. Nothing function… the rooms no longer correspond, the rooms are endless corridors, in silence. So many voices in the head, a single sovereign brings order there.

Language speaks by itself, out loud, no one hears. The words approach like a mirror, the voice is loud but it can be silent.

Habitable places always have limits. Any space left at the mercy of itself freezes. The pain of dropping levels is the only true antidote I know. Feeling like little flames lit in the night… always on the balance and always about to extinguish.