Who was the captain of the paper ship and who the passengers who sank with it, and the reason of this trip, and which was the final order, and who embraced who in the cold Artic waters. Only the lifeboats were found, it seems that the travelers clung to other things. And which were the chronicles of the diaries then, or if on the contrary nobody wrote on my shipwreck. Look, each one is guilty for his life, and there is no one more brave than you, because when one knows the way in which he has sunk, then he knows how to come to the surface, looking for breathe. Oh petra von kant, why were you crying? In a grey, happy and sad day sentences will remain unfinished, because by then they will have lost the meaning we predicted or because in the end we knew who embraced who.