I could had found you while I walked down the street. Sitting behind that bush that marks the limits of my hood. But you do not come, you are not here, you have not been... And you coil yourself within yourself, closing doors, crying your eyes out, hoping that your tears, that mix with your white sheets wash away all the guilt that you do not deserve, and in that stillness, you hope to be renewed. And I'm not around. But in the trivial distance, I see you, among the silence, safe within myself, out of the game, I never played. Let solitute be your most faithful acquaintance, your sweet partner. Don't you let it be a ghost, neither the nothingnes. Systole and diastole. Storm and calm. Chaos and order. You'll be fine, you'll feel well. You know it by hard. But it is not enough for you. Systole and diastole. Pump, pump.