I capture in this piece an unusual serenity in the last deliveries. I feel breezes of calm reflection in the voice of fiction, of encounter with itself looking for details of understanding. In itself, I perceive the piece as a class where reasons for why many actions are exposed, sometimes misinterpreted and that have but a conscious objective: to polish their pupils, channel those rivers that come down from their mountain and, many times they turn turbulent, unconsciously. The voice is hard to understand why so many arrows and it turns out that, although they fall on their target, not all led that direction. The magician's apprentices still have no control over their magic wands and shoot to kill, unintentionally.
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