“in a few years i’ll be completely mad”, he told to himself, while he was sitting at his desk, the candle close to exhaustion, the light fainter and paler every second. a world of desperation, so profound to have the material consistency of metal and paper, was awaiting just behind the yellowish corner of the old, crumbling wall of his life, a wall stained by spit and sun. he saw it like a shadow, he saw his desperation becoming real, venom flowing in his organs, taking possession drop by drop of the tendons of his skin. it has the consistency of metal, the coldness of smooth metal, he thought. a few years ago, they were in symbiosis with each other, after all. but tonight, tonight he felt like a parasite, he understood that he doesn’t own the majority of his organs any more. an undesired guest, which his own body was preparing to vomit up soon.