mid-morning I wake up, but talk of "awakening" would be too pretentious .
was only vaguely aware, a medium body with blurred vision own apocalyptic nightmare
Around me there are only old white walls or, rather, that were once white.
runs through my fingers, as if trying to understand the message of the other thousands of men before me, those who began recording his memoirs when the wall was still white and innocence was preserved even in this world. Generations have passed since then and the wall has been absorbing his delusions, pain and torment.
The tips of my fingers run through the wall for a while, but then leave the task to the nails, they can not feel the suffering of those who went before, but may leave a message for those who will be next.
The blood begins to flow
A new brand has been added
Do you understand?
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