Here I am again here. It is strange that I am lying on a comfortable and soft bed and can hear the beat of my heart while my beloved is dead and cold. I should have the same sentence. I prefer to think of dying young to make up for lost time and then to be able to hold it close to me. Yes, because I believe that there is a life after death and I think it is more beautiful than what we live now. It's three in the afternoon and I'm getting some sleep. This empty house looks like a cemetery, but nothing is more dead than my heart. I wake up and notice that the fridge inside has only a few cans of very hot beer because it doesn't work and it is detached. Then I go out but I don't want to wash my face in the sink of this bare bathroom. I would prefer a train station, a disused bathroom ... Any place except this. I go out and the wind stings my face. Some girls laugh with their microscopic miniskirts. Sajira liked them too and how she laughed and how she enjoyed ... All I can do, however much it costs me, is to continue my life on this infinite highway of life that like a slut jumps me away or watches me fall far away. And I am distant indeed. But I get up ...