Doubt the tremor at the wooden key look through the eye where the sheds find their sources the eye escapes fleeing from promenades a whole system of eyes listened to its own complaint numerous places invade the being like enemies of the coast rivaling the first storm danced to stumbling on its street steps if anything more so much more and more and more distributed darkness of the leaf the forced impressions creators des décors outside our body floated the non-existent ether