Identical

I can’t erase thousand years of history.

I can’t undo all that has been done, to this land, to all the bodies that walked it.

In those traces, we begin our journey, and we won’t distance ourselves very much.

What is a dream, should remain a dream, and thousand years of history must accompany it without driving us mad.

The almost identical roads will play with our memory and our will to live.

The almost identical cause of all our sorrow will choose to erase us before we start to give.