The natural route.

There is something about this unbearable lightness of being and existence, in a personal place and a subjective time, that is reinforced by the unstoppable and impassive technology, the one that coldly returns us to that unrepeatable yet eternally reproducible moment.
If to exist is to interact with what is nearby, even if it is neither heroic nor sublime, then it is our body that must respond either with gravitational pirouettes or with spasmodic movements, moving from one side to another, tempting luck to emerge unscathed from that constant flow of "nows" chained indefinitely.
"The present is the future they promised us yesterday"... and along the way, we must make do.
Let's leave it as a bit of improvisation accompanied by good intentions.

"In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni" [We go in circles at night and are consumed by fire].