An oblique ray splits the mute dust, bringing light where there was only waiting. The air, invisible curtain, is revealed bare, populated by minuscule, silent surrender.
Thousands of particles, shards of nothing and yesterday, dance a wild ballet without melody. Fragments of time, of life, of paths, each one a lost world, an ephemeral madness.
Whirling spirits, grains of crumbled matter, guided by heat, with no purpose nor confine. A cosmic, secret orchestra has just arrived, before the shadow, mercifully, confines them.