The fetus didn’t answer to your voice, didn’t pick up other sounds of its surroundings, it waited in silence, a silence that haltingly became haunting. It waited in your austere and cold womb, afraid, it’s first emotional experience was fear. Where are we? Why is it so quiet here? But moreover, why is it quiet out there? Does this kingdom have a ruler, or is it a forgotten kingdom? How would it know, how it would it know when it yet hasn’t known what’s already known, it doesn’t know yet, it captures luminous and dark shadows as you move, your move holds some agony and disquietude to it, it can feel it, in the way your walk dismantles the concrete, dismantles it, dismantles me, the way your motion injects your torment, our torment, your sinister bravura, you’re capable of anything, aren’t you? It is just a fetus, it is still waiting, it is still waiting to see your blurry silhouette, all those fascinating shapes, all that geometry, all the symmetrical architecture, all the profuse shades, perhaps it will get the chance to experience it, it will dive and cleanse in purity in a plethora of velvety ocean of crimson and cyan, with veins of argenta and viridian green reflecting a pool of subtle endless tides that makes it drift to infinity, perhaps it will see all these colors, it will age, it will behold its own doubts, it will find its own fears, and maybe it will be strong enough to face them, but it doesn't have to do so now, it is too early for it to sense the danger, it is still fragile, it is too delicate, touch it with caution, it is perceptive, it will know your intentions, but don’t touch it so roughly, stroke it, it is not fully formed yet, it is easily breakable, it is frail, hold on, don’t smother it, don’t smother it, just leave if you mean to harm it, but don’t leave, it needs your fractured smile, it can sense something in your smile, it is vile and resentful, it is not what it had expected, its second emotional experience was sadness, you have done the prohibited, you broke all those divine orders, how can you stab what is sacred, don’t fail to remember that it’s fragile, we are fragile, it will remind you, it will cry for help, it will beg and plead. It can’t leave now, it will accept what it has, it will cherish your arctic inhospitable umbilical noose, it waits some more, it waits in utero for the rain to come, it will soon see all the shapes, as flesh and bone develop simultaneously, your noose suffocates it harder, the time has come, it has to perceive, where are we? What is all this agitation? It can sense that you are running, but what are you running from? We have to leave, it has to leave, don’t run, be patient now, it apologizes for forming inside of you, it is innocent, it is pure, it apologizes, it apologizes, stop running, it apologizes, it promises to be good. I will be good.
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