I am smoke, a blur, the crystal wing of a broken figurine.
I’m a ghost, a forgotten spiderweb suspended in the air
I’m a coin lost at the bottom of a sofa, a ballpoint without ink, the shadow of a grave.
I’m a melted snowman, the cracked window of an old house
I am the kisses waited, for lost sailor’s wifes.
I am the fog coming out from the streets.
I’m the void, the nowhere place, the inexistent soul.