In this world that we barely know and understand, this world so full of supposition and assumptions, we strive to make sense of this cluster of cells that constitutes us, sometimes on purpose, some other times unintentionally. We fill in the time and space with useless acts, we make public scraps of oneself, scraps of you, scraps of us, scraps of yourselves too sometimes, and seldom, very seldom, scraps of them, of other people that we observe through our machine designed to decipher reality, being in a constant search of identity, of eternity.
