Inhaled and exhaled —
And where is life?
It is felt only at the joints.
Memory is stored, everything else is garbage,
As a result, efforts are small or large.

He drove, ate, built up and fell.
Had what I wanted
And he did not become.

At the end he said: he was born with nothing,
I’m leaving with nothing.
Memory is the word, the smoke.
Dissolved by it
I can return to the archive of LIFE.