The gramophone and some grayscale pictures of ancient urban life. We can’t see the blue sky of the green tea. We can only see the striped socks and black sneakers with a star on it. We can see the disco ball but we are not touching it, neither smelling it. We listen to some old tunes, back to when we wore blue skirts and shorts, from the cassette player that was too tired all his life.

We don’t know understand why God keeps so much mystery and we don’t have to have any idea about it. It’s like we can always find a reason not to fly just like we can always find a reason to decline an invitation.