Grey it was, some twigs wrestling on the road while the wind played the sorcerer. A shadow following. Loud steps he made, wanted to be heard. Trees lifeless for autumn it was. Season of death. Some dogs sleeping on the path. One of them stared at me while I stepped on a leaf. A loud crunch his final melody. The shadow must be proud. A child came running. Naked below the shirt. Felt like he was being chased but no one to be seen around. A dead crow lay on its way. He saw it and jumped over it. He kept running. Not looking back. The crow was more dead to him, A mound of dirt already. Wind whistled through the wires as it mourned for all of us. Few steps and saw a decapitated doll, the torso being chewed away by the dog who had just woken up. Her locks looked fresh. It was a recent death. Body contoured into oneness. Went on walking finding nothing but nothing. Crashed down on the road, face first. Could feel blood oozing out through the nostrils. Didn’t care to breathe back. It was the most alive I felt in a long time. Eyes saw the side grass smeared with excreta from someone’s shoes. Discarded. A final glance above. A street lamp, the old yellow one, neighbour to a dead bee hive. Eyes closed. While Diving deep into blackness, I saw the truth. No touch, No smell, Not even a sound. Just an obscura.