Great grandparents, dead for a long time, are asking me for their graves. Mothers in panic are looking for their children. Everywhere fire, houses are burning. I want the fire to stop. I want the scream to stop.
Stars are silent.
I ask them to stop the pictures, to stop the voices, to stop the cries, but the stars continue to be silent. I walk as if I am dead among the stars of my city. No house smiles back at me. No house comforts me. I ask myself.