Building H
I walk, always in the same direction.
I always look to the horizon.
I hit walls.
But I continue to walk.
The walls open in front of me.
Always.
I've already been there.
A building, it is a world.
A world with its people.
A world with its images, a world with its colors.
A place.
A place, it is a world.
Simply.
A floor, ceiling, walls.
A hallway, windows.
Light.
A world.
I've already been there.
I always go ahead, straight.
And it's as if I did not move.
The perspective of this complex world...
The perspective of my world...
... is always the same.
The walls still open before me.
The doors also.
I go, I go, I go, I go.
As much as I want.
But I'm still in the same place.
I've already been there.
In another time.
At the time, I had another identity.
I was another.
But that's me.
This is me.
A world that opens.
A world closes.
A world that reopens. A world closes again.
A world that does not stop me.
A world where I do not move.
Even if I go again and again...
A world where I am.
A world where I disappear, maybe.
I've already been there.
By this disorder.
I go, I go, I go.
But I go back at the same time. But I go anyway.
I always go.
I'm still here.
At the exact same place.
That opens and closes.
Guiding me and lock me.
A world. My world.