THE WAITING

Hundreds of years waiting for a signal and earing far voices coming to me like old melodies, being between in a mortuory stone cage.

Was this silent judgement just an prelude of a new life, but the long waiting?... feeling how the blood starts to drying in your veins, but after being died once there is not another way... just to wait, there is open doors, just the cold and dark stone around me.

THE HUNTER

I feel my strength falling-- fading-- Has it been so long since the last time I smelled it? There it was once again; that sound coming to my head telling me where to look forward; the warm and colorful stream is driving me slowly and cautiously, just like it used to.

THE HUNGER

It was like a deep scratch... trying a grasp of first breath, getting filled with real air and been born from the dust again.

Just remembering how it happened. Why was this so hard?

Pushing to get above through the dirt with bones, fingers, nails... but realizing how damaged the flesh was, when it used to be soft and clear, as bright as an angel from the dark night.

That old feeling of being a hunter just because of the smell and taste of that sweet and striking first drink... THAT FIRST DRINK!