I walk the night.
I walk in complete silence.
Walk the night by electric yellow light.

Streets with parked cars, trees and no human soul to mislead my stream of thoughts.

I get around in here. I don't feel any real pleasure
or any real relaxed confrontation with life.

I'm in the limbo of passed life and dreamed one.

I'm from here,
was born here.

There's a peace, like a primordial peace, in here
that no other place will ever be capable of giving.

This peace - I know - is passive, like a womb of a mother
made from reality: people, homes and roads.

A peace that is hell when too much wants me outside.

The need to get away to develop my way.

A way of me, to get to others being me,
what ever that really means...