I remember. It was, a long time ago, with the country of the vacancies. In the middle of my childhood. At the time of deadening me. I left far, so far. In a sigh. Plains in forests, small valleys in hills until the section of the road. On the back of an imaginary horse. A day ago. Neither of morning, nor of evening. There remained only the time fixed on the heart of a mystery. That to grow of an opened up size. At the point of touching stars, taking down them and to bring back them in my daydreams. Gallops in wild races. On the back of a horse ever tired. Of return, I fell asleep. Happy, exhausted. Merry, made drunk. Of this marvellous voyage. The years passed. The horse rests in the attic. This evening, I will awake it. For new wild races. We will go to the sky. There, where the stars sleep. There, where I will take most beautiful. We will return to all sails. To slip it into the package. That of all the secrecies. Whose this feeling gives to love you. That I will give you. With the caress of a sigh. The soft breath to daze you.