It all has started and I must GO: look for and search, that tiny me contained within myself. Round a roundless centered and unfocused I see a butterfly buttering her belly bounteous wings to a better butter butt or but? Our but? Her solitude? Selflessness, ignorance and stupidity. She turns to me and comments, at the height of her knowledge, I have invested all my money in stock exchange! That old fashioned hustle and bustle of the markets still excites me. Have you by any chance had the opportunity to verify the dollar exchange rate? It’s exhilarating. The profits are humping, I’m on cloud nine. Out of the blue, she falls flat, dawn at her heel, too bad, I point. Instead, I stare into space and contemplate a day, I try to hide within my books, there are a plethora of them spread around my bedroom and I cannot seem to find the right place for them, as the old butterfly lies dead at the head of my bed. Suddenly, I’m tittering on the verge of the seasons of all dreams and I catch a glimpse of a putrid, fetid stable with a million horses, they have tremendous breeds, sweet smiles and a thousand colours. The butterfly is there now, she eggs me on pulling their hairs but, instead I want to become one with them: in their rootedness, with their imperfections and misgivings I want to be one of them. She cracks up and listens to the music of my keeling in front of them. I have made up my mind, I want to have a go at the blue one: he is so human that I shrink within my animus animosity. I ride him for two days, he takes me to the mob and, in the middle of their furious roar they dress me in silk and gold. I, alongside with my stallion, tread in the leap of God. However, unexpectedly, the butterfly comes to me and sweeps me off my feet, I fall and, again into the room, again in the hurdle of books and lack of space, and air, and liberty and freedom. But quiet now, there is a lady who wants to break free. Get real? Get! Steal? Sure, now it is all clear, it’s in the market. And I am happy again.