They are crawling in the dark of a dark-argentine-metallic room: it is their bunker, somewhere in Andros.
They manage to make the future come quicker, and the quartz' seconds of the electronic clocks run faster.
They have every millisecond counted into chrome, and the future is an ordeal: challenge or violent change: final revölution or eyed shattered in tears.
You can't see them, not even in the middle of the daylight: they crawl like silversnakes over a mirror...and you watch: see/you don't see...but...the whole history will be revealed in the heavy-blue days of our anguished hug; a future to come; from the past.
Darkly...
They are only an illusion.
-
