A millenium passed away, small forests became jungles, mountains were devoured from sand violently exiled from vast deserts with the help of hands made from storms. It was as if someone wanted to erase the traces. The triumphant laughs of liberation are forgotten. The world that once seemed new and vibrant turned pale and old. Why? Maybe because of the strange inhabitants were to eager to forget the path that led them through. In their journey they were leaving behind not only spoken not only part of their body but also part of their mind. And they became so tired, all they demanded was to rest. It wasnt difficult. There was not any apparent changes. So a strange kind of sleep. Fell among the lot The more they cultivated this habbit. To seek in the deep matters of Lethargy. The more their environment changed. It was a curious transformation. It was as if someone wanted to erase the traces However there is one trace that will ever remain. Week as a whisper it can reopen the way. Just listen Your Fathers knew these words by heart even those that never crossed, the eerie side.
trace, erase, habbit, became, strange