The light of a reading lamp, with an agonic soul, is born, and now trembles, fears the air, and death doesn't wait for anything and crahes against the white wall that nobody sees. If at least he would have lighted the letters of a too accurate sentence, or if he would have get to your retina and you would have spilled him in a tear to the planet, all would be done. It was too absurd to crash against the white wall. Has anyone seen the white walls? When nobody sees them, how will they be? Has anyone seen the white walls when they can't be seen? How will they be? It will be better to shut up. We all have sorrows, miseries and our darkest side, even so, we always light up a reading lamp when fear swallows us at night. I am retina, wall, planet, air, reading lamp, and ray of light.