For all those who are not here we sing to the mountains. For all those no one will forget and will keep living in our minds. For all those who are not here we pray to the sky, for them to have a good trip and be forever free. Those who are now so confusing that we can’t see them between the crowd or flying with the birds, those who have gone because they had to. For all of them is that we write stories and we sing songs, for all those who are right now watching us from above.
Death is a pillage, always stalking. We can find it just around the corner, with or without any intention. No matter what we do, she will be waiting for us but until the day we stop living, we will be singing to the mountains and praying to the sky for the ones that have gained a place in our hearts. For all those who we love and are not here.