Unnamed In the beginning everything is empty, without color and light. Suddenly there is a colorless light, a burning flame in the emptiness. A man soars out of the flame. All at once the light takes color and the emptiness bursts out in a million of flames, the air seems to tremble as lightnings flies across the skies. Then, the man raises his hand and everything is calm. He’s moving his arms, with slow, painful gestures he shapes planets. After a while he puts down his hands, he is finished. For a moment he stands there, watching his creation. He turns around and faces the fire he first came from. Once again he raises his hands. This time the star starts to grow and in one mighty explosion the star bursts, throwing its #life-bringing content over the universe. For a few seconds the universe is frozen before the madness of creation starts again and lightnings cross the skies in a tempest that shakes the universe. It lasts for many centuries, tearing stars and planets to pieces. When it’s over, there is no sign of the man; He left a long time ago. The man is walking on a street crowded with people, his arms hanging loosely down beside his body. No one seems to take any notice of him. He walks into a pub and opens a swing door that takes him behind the bar. Even though there is a sign that announces ‘Personal Only’ no one reacts on his presence. He stands there for a while, looking at something, then he stoops and picks up a bottle of whisky from a shelf. He walks out on the floor, picks an empty table, sits down and starts to drink. No one in the pub has even looked at him yet. His head is hanging down over the table and soon it starts to sway. In his mind he’s travelling back in time to a beautiful morning. He is much younger, running on the meadow alongside the deer. The wind in his face, the long grass bows to make way for his feet. When he looks up he sees her, the world explodes in a cloud of feelings… His thoughts get interrupted when a family walks into the pub and a waiter greets them in the entrance. Strange to tell they are assigned the table the man is sitting at. The man jumps up and moves away from the table, just moments before the father in the family threw his coat on the now empty chair. The man slips out of the door and continues to walk along the street. He sees a young pair of lovers walking along the street, happily smiling. There is like a glowing aura around them. The man tries to look in a different way and closes his eyes, but he turns his head back. Suddenly he begins to shake. He sits down on a seat holding head in his hands. Once again his memory takes him back, to another place and another time. He is laying the sand, holding her hand. It is a starlit night. He is looking at the stars, but they feels just like grey stones in comparison to her eyes. The only sounds is the birdsong and theirs slow breathing. He turns around looking at her and she tells him something. Words on a language, forgotten a long time ago… The man gets pulled away from his thoughts, opens his eyes and look around. He is standing in the middle of the street; the young pair he saw before occupies the bench. The man turns his back against them and walk away, his head is hanging down. As he is walking along the street he sees a family eating on a restaurant, they are laughing together. He remembers a time when #life wasn’t a burden; a dinner besides the fireplace, talking and laughing until the morning comes. Then she speaks, just a few words. But something is wrong, there is new feelings: confusion, anger, sadness and disappointment. With a tremendous effort he takes control of his mind and recaptures himself from the memories. As if some kind of external force pushed him forward he continues to walk along the street even though he doesn’t looks like he is able to take another step. Now he catches the sight of the end of the street. He looks at it and for a moment hope shines in his eyes. He takes a long step forward and continues towards the end of the street. Then a woman is screaming somewhere and the man falls to the street. He sees blood everywhere, blood on his hand and in her hair. Blood flowing on the stones. And there is pain, so much pain and panic. A broken rule and an ancient punishment; the fire is burning as the man is born in the flame, he is walking without goal. And everything is empty and colourless in the beginning. Then there is a light, a colourless flame in the emptiness. And out of it the man soars, born in her blood and his pain. And I am a master of a nothing place Of recoil and grace - Billy Corgan