Then I flew, it was wonderful, I couldn't believe it! It's a weird luck to be such a THING for someone as old as me; As a simple THING...

An angel leaves. There's no sound. Just a heavy silence that covers the shacks of wood where other angels remain alive.

The Blue it looks infinite like heaven. Like a flooded sky in which creatures float with light and agile bodies.

You can hear him walking late night through the streets, offices, parks. Like a shadow, it crawls behind the words waiting to squeeze them.

Whatever the reason, he was always late. You could say it was an art itself; with astonishing precision he was punctual in his unpunctuality