I have the suspicion that in order to be truly free it is necessary to see your father die and to kill your mother. Or viceversa? A part of my mind remains the in darkness. My hands are perspiring, my palpitations increase, and I feel my body chilling all over. I feel the anguish, the temptation and the wish of the person who will commit a crime. Or maybe it happened already? I cannot open my eyes. To me all is emotionally out of order, nonsense, strange…I have present in my mind the surging of madness in children. In my universe there is a sort of wildness associated to the breaking off with the land where I grew up…and that woman. In my present time nothing is challenging me, everything is paralyzed, although the pain is encrypted therein. I value the price of my psychological independence and of a freedom associated to not renouncing to the lack of structures, building up a deep sense of freedom. Wow, it is amusing!/ It is not amusing! I have discovered a way out. But I do not want to stop flirting with violence wherein I am capable of drawing an updated picture of chaos, with images in which strange people, capable of assuming a supernatural personality, emerge. I am going through a new chapter of my paranoid psychosis of sleep; I know, I am haunted or am I witch? My feet are burning.