THERE IS NO MORE AIR. ONE SUFFOCATES. ONE CUTS THROUGH A PATH IN DUST DENSE LIKE CEMENT. IT BLOCKS EACH PORE OF THE SKIN. OUR TYMPANUMS ARE BORED AND, FROM NOW, THER IS NO MORE SOUND IN OUR ENVIRONMENT. ONE DOES NOT KNOW ANY MORE WHAT COMES FROM FRONT OR BEHIND, ONE IS NOT ORIENTED ANY MORE, ALL IS GRAY AND COMPACT. THE BITTER SMELL, EITHER, ONE DOES NOT FEEL IT BECAUSE THE ENTRY OF OUR NOSTRILS IS OBSTRUCTED BY A CONGLOMERATE. ANYWAY, ONE COULD NOT DISTINGUISH WHAT SMELLS GOOD FROM WHAT SMELLS BAD; OUR NASAL WALLS ARE UNABLE TO DIFFERENTIATE IT. WHEN WE CLOSE OUE EYES, FORMERLY PROTECTED BY OUR LASHES AND OUR EYEBROWS, THE WOUND CONSTRAINED US TO REOPEN THEM IMMEDIATELY TO SEE ONLY THIS FOG WHICH NOWHERE DISSIPATED. THERE IS NO WIND. ONLY ONE AND SINGLE TIME WHICH DOESN’T PASS. THERE IS NO LIMIT BETWEEN THE GROUND AND THE SKY. ONE ONLY DISTINGUISHES, BLUR, FAR AWAY, THOSE ARMED MEN WALKING HEAVILY AND DISAPPEARING AT ONCE. THERE IS NO BIRDS.