I was naked back in those days. Around hesitant stars, things. Then the day slowly closed eyes. Darkness we just called darkness. The scratches. Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? In the lips and in the skin. Behind the trees.

I was in your body, and you? On the bus, I wrote you a text message. It doesn’t matter. The ladder up to the sentence: I was the one who called the police.