Seen as a dreamer far from reality, I used to beg humanity to conceive I was lucid, more lucid than can be tolerated. Pain wouldn’t exist if I wasn’t.

Because I don’t speak like it is expected, it doesn’t mean I am incoherent. And because I want to escape the vulgarity of facts, it doesn’t mean I am blind to them. I see what they hide, ugly or graceful; I feel their full blow as they strike and bash.

Among them, my visions echoes in a hollow well of mistrust and fear because the only thing your kind want to acknowledge are scores and data.

I see ghost so I am never alone, I see them all of them, in Hades’ corridors between Bondi and Malabar, shadows of times gone and incarnate factual present. They play games in the murky light and poke me when I go back in the world above.

Don’t make me wrong I like it. All of it, their presence and the work. My body hurts less now from pulling down the chains but their marks carved my flesh. Metal. After each day I smile.

Raven and Magpies are demanding and vocals early in the morning. After the feed, I tell them stories about your past and they remain on the grass behind the workshop. They like stories, like me.

They are not the only ones with wings, my guardian angel is not far behind. Guiding my way in the underworld, a soft voice and a secure hand, he tells me what to do.

I thought wings would be useless in Hades kingdom but I was wrong. Once I had them for you, but they are long gone now and I have to learn how to fly without them.

Nevertheless I smile at the birds, at the angel, at the workers, at all the shadows, at Hades and of course at your ghost because they all feed me the tales I crave for. They all give me life.

I am never alone. I see all even without a face.