The Forest was calm, or perhaps it was just me imagining it. All that happened thirty minutes ago was like it had never existed: I ran for my life, thinking that it might be the end of this one, but here I was, in a place that had undoubtedly forgotten my existence or never took any interest in it from the beginning. For how long did I walk, I did not know. My head was turning, my sense dulled: my arms were numb, my legs heavy. I leaned my body against a tree and rested my head on the rough bark. My eyes managed to catch some of the rays of light penetrating through the leaves and bathed in their warmth. The scent of the pines was beyond any sweetness in the world. It filled my head with various emotions, memories that I had once rejected and thrown into the deepest pit in my brain. I had tried to suppress them, but they, once in a while, surged out of my body like water surging out of a broken dam. I closed my eyes. Extract from the first chapter of "Meanings, meanings, meaning"