Only the fragile heart can understand the charm of the old. The best things in life are those we can't have yet, still we hope. Blessed will be the day when the circle will be complete. Then the song of the muse will be heard again the mourning of the trees will stop. This sweet melancholy that is brought by the precious memory The Pale Beauty of the Past lost in the vortex of time.
Noble causes sink in oceans of bodies where flesh and steel is one.
Memories of Ancient Wars remove the frozen bonds of time. Return to Carthage in bitter irony the proud city lies raped. The poor in mind are satisfied with what they see. And they bear the sign of imperfection because they miss the other side the invisible. And its flesh parts are slowly melting slipping down like white worms.