He said to me ”I'd like to be free.” A short question, a deep desire and some hope hiding in his pocket. An Indian summer and bare feet. With half a smile on his face, I understood him. I knew him, without knowing. Heavy boots like me, heavy with dreams and complexes. Heavy with effort and long lost love. Heartaches, but no regrets. Just difficulties living for the moment. He was an old dreamer who saw his life but felt apart from it. Bittersweet, a bleeding diamond. I guess the happy ones are fools for smiles. Drawn to white lies and influence. And there we were, loving our burdens, longing for truth and provoking art. Facing ourselves as we were, naked. Freedom would be kind enough to come, but we don't welcome it. We're praying for millions without buying lottery tickets.