We played football until our legs wore out and we had to go back to the factory to get new ones. There were no winners or losers, like a coin that has neither heads nor tails. We saw the devil but he didn't have a pitchfork. We talked to God but he did not answer us because he spoke another language. The angels ignored us and the virgins contemplated us. Blessed is the right to justify the murder of children. Blessed are the governments and the media. We wandered aimlessly. We had no place to go, no ground to fall on. No hate, no love, just the will to go to the factory to get our legs glued so we could use them up playing football.
YOU ARE READING
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."
