Tunes. Smoke. White and grey smoke. "Tout va bien" she says. A group of dogs is passing by on that small and dark street. Someone in the balcony cleans the table after a dinner. A piece of bread and a glass of water. Butter and cheese. He has problems. He wants to talk but something stops him.
Four floors and a big wall separate everyone from an alter-world. Where everything has no control. There are no doors. Only windows. Trapped is how you stay. It´s a world of prison. Prison of yourself.
And the clock sounds One o´clock in the morning
And a butterfly flaps her orange wings
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