In this muffled night I keep thinking on you, sitting on the top of my favourite sounds. The ones that never stop knocking at my perception, roughly expecting me not to tell them they’re cumbersome. I don’t belong to this body, I’ve always been deeply aware of my truthful roots.. Bones and saliva don’t suite me. I’m a stave of dynamite trips, always trotting to the weirdest direction. Come back to my shadow. I need your barefoot soul.