...the memories of the communism, of the dictatorship, in the cult of the fear, are sealing the lips, are petrifying the facial muscles, are ripping the soul, while the howl of the reality is locking the lungs with the padlock of anxiety, using the key of manipulation, attired in military boots; ...people are stuck in a profound disgust of what the hell happens;   ...suddenly, everybody feels censored, just to not hear and see each other's truth, right in the most crucial point; even AI knows; ... the view of a high percentage, promoted nowadays, it's the war, it's the fascism, it's the antisemitism, it's a voice that's not mine or yours, but of someone which with others are using it as if it is; ...entire communities are threatened with all the catastrophic effects that even the imagination is too damn afraid to imagine about; ...a manifestation of the hate, disapproves human attributes, alimenting the souls with an aching pain just to suffer repeatedly; ...the...

There's something in ourselves we don't know. Something which we'll deny even if it exists until it will be too late to do anything about it. We lend a habit, polished, as if it's a trophy, begging for the approval of others, and withal that, nobody has any clue where we are. How near or how far, which's the truth or the delusion… how's the look in our eyes when what we are seeking for it hides right where we'd never think to search for, if someone wouldn't appear, miraculously, to whisper its magic and encouraging call — “come rain or come shine… come with me, (come…), (shine on, you… crazy diamond).”