Shelter

Every morning I create a world and every night it's destroyed, born, being, living and dying with each day, in my sleep too, dreams don't remain the same, I'm playing a rigged game, so painful when you lose altitude and hit the sharp stone shards, but soon forget when up high caressing clouds, who's driving this endless train of moments? when will we arrive to my hometown?

by "Artemio" (Juan Carlos)