I look forward to your smile even though I have your word. That swelled word of the world that reinvents irony. I have that absent duplicity, that broken hope, your poetic souls of the eternal, the illusion of your gaze. I have an invention of yours that I have created inside my skins, with which I speak silently when nostalgia begins. I have your abandonment and your essence, transcended from this body that struggles with the unspeakable. I have a past in common, with no one-morning project.