Three months that it lasts. Nightmares, prophetic visions or vague reminiscences mixed with heroic or erotic fantasies, of a world of peace, a world at war, of suffering and pleasure... What a mess in my head. No, it's better to go back to sleep... or change things. Yes, but how?
This virus, this plague as everyone calls it, where does it come from?
Why does my life lose all its meaning in a few months?
For John, his life's work was about to be destroyed because it was built on sand and covered with dust. But deep in his heart, love was there and was barely keeping him alive.
We'll have to fight.
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