The maram is not just a papers and supplied Is a jerk healing in a pen, which is not a toner or blood, but tears. Is a map of feelings where we lostand we lost distinction between being a reality, or is just a game on the palm opportunities! We live with a crooked chess stones, our souls are suspended in the hand of luck, nor a skill here and not planning and strategy! He is the slap that makes us harvested from an incense we believe that life is all in it was quiet, quickly opens her pain on our cheek. , It is the play we have lived and live, who we believed since we have had a truthand we knew we knewand then announced the audience at the end of this play, that these sisters and figures were not just images in a painting in a theatrical scene For the time is absurdly!