The overcrowded drawers of accumulated dreams shattered, filling empty nooks and crannies. Tangled by the collision with longings, they created new images. For some years, suppressed, they began to sprout timidly, bringing renewed joy. Others doze, waiting for the better winds to be fulfilled. Meanwhile, the pages written in verse are read by the wind. He composes a melody to these words. And only a late tear will stealthily roll in the eye to run softly down the cheek.
