We were made of unstable and loose silences like the low-frequency voices of elephants with their long trunks eating dirt asking for life. Give me the day of love and its shadows. Keys of life. Look at me as a joy ends. Tomorrow maybe. Not today for now. Dawn of unbearable beauty. On a desert trip. Air desert. Loose sand. Low prisoner, sadness of the void, sliding through its dark shadows.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypo/thesis.