I converse with texts that live from the scent of murdered adolescence, shaping overwhelming anxieties, emphasizing human mistakes. I pass through and unintentionally dissect their breath, stirring faded maps, fragments of memory, images from journeys in South America scattered randomly. With Peru as my ally and faithful friend, I share the writing adventure, so I put down the pencil and invite it:…Shall we go to Peru? The beginning of the stroll, the break, the release, but also the potential evolution of the dough of events. Do I illuminate the facts under the prism of Platonic love? Misconception? Possible illusion? Anthimos, Meliti, and in the background Jazmin. Their sizes flicker in the dark like storm headlights in a tide of emotions. Hot-minute writing, moonlight lava! Love-Death! The upper and lower extremes of life! How can two silences fit in one palm?