I try to change reality

with invented lines,

but I can't help but think about what the image tells.

Shrinking and disappearing,

an act of fading away.

What comes after disappearing?

Can something truly vanish?

Under the ground, the past story

that we see represented in pieces,

particles, and plastics.

In the water, those untold and unseen journeys.

Water, many with plenty and many with little.

I try to change reality with invented lines.

Nevertheless, the truth hits me.

Instability resonates, a dance of the real.

Why does the truth seem like a tale?

Once upon a time, a dinosaur

fell due to lack of water.

Once upon a time, a puddle dried up,

only to fill and dry again.

Once upon a time, the invention of time

to calculate our moments.

Sixteen seconds are enough

to tell a story.