It was the envelope covering the emptiness.nThe one turning the arch into a monster, the one turning simplicity into difficulty.nBreaking the landscape of this too ugly world with passion for the ephemeral.nConfessions with any make-up.nConfessions turned into risks by an untactful brain... with passion for the ephemeral.nRivers turn into snakes unable to read the fight of the eagles, suffocated by the fumes of the unsupportive ships of a world turned into a show.nFrom the pleasure to the surface, and from the scorn about hidden of the shattered fibbers by invisible moths.nAnd from the pleasure of the moths in the surface.