It’s like the concrete floor suddenly lost its structure and crumbled below my feet – things happen so fast and I just need to keep moving, racing towards something that is still unknown to me. I spin out of control, like a train running over decayed tracks. I know, it’s just a matter of time before all carriages spill out. I can’t identify the particular moment in time where I lost the plot of what’s happening. You know, when a tragedy happens you expect the world to stop for a second. When it doesn’t, you push harder, run faster, live more, do things – more intensely, artificially as if you were competing with the 1600KM/h Earth’s velocity, like a spoiled kid who hasn’t realized yet, that even if the world doesn’t stop for you, it’s alright to take your time. But now, it feels I have speed up too fast. It’s as if things are escalating towards a grand finale and, in a twisted morbid sense, it’s all going according to the plan.