Five minutes are enough to hurl this vile universe with the insults it deserves, and to stay away from your feeble attempts to polish and polish it, and your feeble ways of beautifying the quality of life, which has lit up like a large hole at the bottom of which we have been buried. I only seek five minutes to erase my name from the sheet of existence, and write the last word on the curtains of the sky. We walk in the vastness of the earth in search of ourselves, in search of the scattered pieces of our souls. Every part of us is taken away with the departure of someone, we are torn, we are worn out until we become shabby bodies that are unable to bear the burden of life. Any exile that shelters our exhausted, displaced, and unwanted selves in the depths of this place. Any exile that receives us when the vast universe has narrowed us down, and any land that bears the burden of a body being torn apart. I sail and dive to the bottom for fear of rising to the surface and getting involved in falsehood. Here I am, drowning more and more, without calling for help from a human being. Staying in the depths of darkness suits a melancholy spirit like the one that lives in me.