A little further from the light cast by the lamp there begins another world, an unknown world – who has ever gone there? who has every returned from there? – and then there are nights – ah! how many adventures there are dreams, so many that you life becomes insignificant (and hence dangerous) – then night falls and that old familial rain begins again, just like the time when mother would not let me go out and we would play together in the room: I would hide from her and she would search and search for me, but would not be able to find me – ‘Where are you?’ she would then shout, frightened.
for I had already become submerged in all my future sorrows.