Certain moments in life reflect other moments that are hidden too deep in the subconscious. Unusual days of getting arrested in one's dreams and nightmares. Which way? What manner? Did you say that? No. The voice is playing steadily in my head. But I did not say such. I didn't say much. These certain moments reflect a life where watching the TV - the news is a suicide. I asked her why she covered her face this misty Monday morning. She scoffed and said: touch here, my bosom, it hurts. The wind blew the scarf backward in despair. She said again: do you know that my heart has stopped beating? The doctor said I have many years to live but the fence of my life got bombed down by threats. Flying threats from threats from threats from the nation. I am covered so that I can't breathe no more. To let the filthy air pass. To let the blue sky wear a clearer apparel. Don't uncover me.