Remember my love when we were invincible? When our love was extraordinary? Remember when we insisted on summer even though it was winter? When we had the elegance of the clouds, the lightness of the birds, the innocence of the little ones? Remember when we were immortal? When we were cut without bleeding and loved without hurting? Remember the time when there was never wreck? When we accepted heights and integers alone? Remember when peace was our blanket? When enchantment was routine, when rest was routine, when miracle was routine? Remember my love when there were feet left for the primroses? When promises were seeds, dreams were seeds, smiles were seeds and we cultivated ourselves without realizing? Why then did it become the sadness to visit us decorating our house of weariness? Why then did it decide the sadness to occupy space in the place of what we remembered? And it’s here, in the windows, in the bathroom, in the corner of the room. I’ve already prayed, I cried, I screamed and it does not abandon us. It, in silence, lowers us: to the as ordinary ones, to the banal, to the bitter it, imposing, humbles us: the trivial, the mediocre, the sour. It robbed us of the glow by locking our memories in the basement. We were left with the muffled sound of the truths we keep. Intransigent it swept the starry sky out of the house. Only the cold room was left us to sleep. Today we sleep in a bed of thorns. We were left with only black and white dreams. From the heights to the dark ones, from the immersed to the shallow, from the immense to the coherences, from gratitude to charges, from forgiveness to excuses, from surrender to defenses. Where do we put what we do not need? Sadness robbed us of wealth, dialogues and scenery. Sadness robbed us of the scene, making love a mere helper. A short character trying to convince us of happiness in a foreign language.