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Spoken:
A millenium passed away, small forests became jungles, mountains
were devoured from sand violently exiled from sand violently exiled
from vast deserts with the help of hands made from storms. It was as
if someone wanted to erase the traces. The triumphant laughs of
liberation are forgotem. The world that once seemed nes and vibrant
turned pale and old. Why?
Maybe because of the strange inhabitants were to eager to forget the
path that led them through.

In their journey they were leaving behind not only spoken: not only
part of their body but also part of their mind. And they became so
tired, all they demanded was to rest. It wasn´t difficult.
There was not any apparent changes.
So a strange kind of sleep.
Fell among the lot.
The more they cultivated this habbit.
To seek in the deep matters of Lethargy.
The more their enviroment changed.
It was a curious transformation.
It was as if someone wanted to erase the traces.
Hoever there is one trace that will ever remain. Week as a whisper
it can reopen the way.
Just listen.
Your Fathers knew these words by heart even those that never crossed,
the eerie side.

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