Every face,
a form of confinement.

He runs the edge of the dome and cuts the chains that weaken, so they can be tied again.

Everything inside the dome came from his hands. He neither comforts nor rewards: he creates.

Low lamps, gears and brass lenses: where Godem tests, corrects and takes apart his creatures.

Beauty, pleasure and everything sold as goodness. They do not attack: they invite.

Creatures locked into a single force: cruelty, spite, envy. They hunt whoever tries to leave.

Those who let go of every chain of attachment and crossed the margin without getting hooked again.

A girl draws flowers under a yellow light, in a house where her father decides when doors are shut.

Sophia, a biologist, sits in a park doing nothing and finds out who truly inhabits her body.

Curly dark hair, a face more tired than old and a gaze that never rests on anything visible.