A sea of asphalt had been suddenly displaced to cover the crack left by the blind and sovereign splitting. However, it was already late and he no longer knew, instinctively, how to clearly argue the source of their slow time, the essence of dialogue, the taming of a deaf burden of useless symbiosis, which lost its shine with each suicide. He let himself be carried away by the wave for a while, then worriedly took over the rain-hit helm to avoid the straight road home. His heart was clearly drowning in the water of life.