It could be said that they lived a double life: the natural life and that of object while they rest under their own shadow

 Those hours of each eye they were distilled in the jar of your own body in that prohibited use in the stubborn hardness of the bones in its simplicity the parts that let go in a perpetual rearrangement it's because widower fear who will believe now in the wide desert of the future In a certain way, in their own way, one could say that they lived the natural life twice and that of the object there they rest under their own shadow