The only treasure I find in myself is the key that opens this limitless field since I have known you, this field made of the repetition of one plant, taller and taller, swinging in a wider and wider arc and leading me to death Because one woman and one man, who until the end of time must be you and me, will drift in their turn without ever turning back as far as the path goes, in the optical glow, at the edges of life and of the oblivion of life