"How much time does it take
for one to say all that there is to narrate?"

"One summer", she answered.

"But how can one be absolutely certain
that he is free of every burden?"

"He looks in the mirror", she answered.

-Yet, I didn't know where to focus my gaze.
There was a little black hole between my eyes,
it was burning me and sucking in all the light.
There was a bullet inside my chest,
it was pushing me to the ground and I was agonizing to get it out.
My stomach was lost,
and I was sick and tired of feeling the void-

"How can one rip off his shadow?",
I asked again since she hadn't understood what I was looking for.

But she only knew how to tell those neverending stories.
The ones about everything and nothing, about all that is eternal.
She didn't think of reminding me
to

Turn on the light.