On the island you have two possibilities: you either go crazy or you die. The problem for us is that we can't die, that's their property. Madness is our thing.The dogs here are very different from what I remember. The dogs here are missing their eyes and have golden fangs. They use them to detect us. But they can only come out in the morning, and as we move at night, dogs are not a problem. If a dog bites you, it's the end.If they bite you, they give you madness. Barrett was a guy who wrote great songs. Until he was bitten by a dog. A grenade of light exploded, the dog saw him, went over him and bit him.I remember Barrett writing and playing the guitar. He composed great melodies. He talked about how hard this place was, how suffocating it was to live inside the eternal night, he talked about madness, he talked about the longing to die someday. Sometimes I imagine that I can die as they die and that I can return to Buenos Aires. I imagine the streets I walked, I imagine the faces of my relatives, I imagine the lights, I imagine the angels, I imagine their freckles, I imagine the wild animals, I imagine that the morning belongs to me. A guy once said to me, "Crazy can't be cured. Sometimes Barrett imagines he finds the antidote to madness. There, lying in the ground, bare and swollen, with white eyes, screaming, the cure, the cure, I found the cure! Sometimes I imagine that the sword of Damocles pierces the back of my neck. I imagine I'm in my bed sleeping. I imagine someone else is taking my place. I composed beautiful songs before the golden fangs penetrated my flesh. I composed beautiful songs and imagined myself dying.
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I.C.U
General Fiction"Debbie Harry and Kurt Cobain; Luca Prodan; a city that burns; a freckled girl who leaves; a war on a mysterious island and a cursed writer are the flashes that run through the mind of a teenager who suffered a motorcycle accident."
