When I meet the eyes of cupid, that gaze could see through everything.

From monochrome to vivid primary colors.

Where am I coming from and where am I going?

Cosmos dust may be the answer.

The time to face everything has come once again.

Who owns this world?

Horizons veiled, only dust is free.

Olive trees, olive branches, ancient pleas, on a packed train, where vision's denied, outside unknown, every comfort satisfied, 1923 1993 2023 we gather at the fireside.

The world belongs to you?

No.

The world belongs to <us>,

we'll take what's ours through violent process, you're walking backwards through time.

The future is coming from behind,

Horizons melting down, my hand reaches to you.

2024.11