Opening my eyes again in this whimsical world, stepping out of my perch and looking down through the mask I was wearing, I saw my neighbors slowly coming out to let the light warm their bodies.
I am used to doing nothing in the morning and just looking at these new and strange neighbors.
This is a whimsical world where no answers float in the wind, where there is no concept of time, where we depend on each other and are alone, nomadic and without direction.
In this world, there are no words, only sounds that record the existence of each other, and the unique wisdom that supports the slow march of all kinds of shells.
We all keep our distance, looking, walking and resting from afar.
The Sayeruswa are fond of migrating after the light, but I hadn't seen them for a long time, and just now when I opened my eyes again they appeared, as before they had been in the company of some strange creatures floating in the air.
I don't know at which record point I woke up now, my surroundings seemed familiar but I couldn't tell, I always felt that the air had an air of being stared at and a sound that could be physically perceived.