This is the story of a blind soul who danced, wandered around the feudal sounds of civilization.
She didn't know how the real light was, how color looked like, not even the real movement.
Not being able to see, she fell in love with the sound of words.
Her knowledge transformed the act of talking into dance, the dance of words.
But she was surrounded by apathy, boredom and evil.
The act of passion, solitude was her only choice.
Touching became her most exciting feeling, so she developed a three-dimensional language
built on the sound of her own movements.
Any time she was dancing, she could see the world, always wondering how would it feel
to be what she had been told a wolf is, a plant is, a rock is, a mute blind death rock.
A mute blind death rock.
How would nature sound?
Could she live into the wild?
She had this awful feeling she could never survive.
If the world collapsed, no man could ever survive into nature, as her gods did.
Will if so comfortably known.
Being a rock, not having conscience, she would not feel the necessity of seeing the world
actually she didn't wanted to see.
She would not ever see again.
Nature would not ever exist again.
Her last consolation was time, going deaf, to feel like a rock, to be a rock.
Words die to word, or rock lives forever.
A mute blind death rock.
