Time is lying, withering
on a beach, wondering
if it can still gather itself.

They say he is crazy, but
he is closer to the flow.
It scares him. Even as
a man from the old times,
he is sophisticated and
he thinks to himself.

You say they are from
another world, but they
eat, sleep, fight and
sin just like you do.

They are young, but
they are already used to
uniforms and fighting
against the evil.

Scattered on a table,
I interpret the messages behind,
making sense
of every photograph,
and of myself.