I cut the sand with my hand, i want it to get under my nails. Right hand’s wrapped in warmth like its twin when the bottle-glass cuts through my skin. I raise my hand watching the river flow, I raise my hand waiting the drops to fall. Sand & blood, sand & blood are my breadcrumb trace. When you say “so long”, watch out for the breadcrumbs that you throw. Sand & blood. The time has come to head back home and be alone for some more time. Heat never lets go, so i went back to hide and cast a glance at the trace i left behind. I raise my hand trying to get a car, but there isn’t anything so far.