_{The textures of centuries, imbued with darkness, undoubtedly set an impossible path for this painful coexistence between life and death. Biocerosis always stands still and comes in the light of pure opacity. The open view of the apparent volume of inversion, the fate of the fingers intertwined in the skin of destruction, abducted the primitive definition of having imagination from human beings years before birth. This red-hanging clot on the edge of darkness crushes at a distance of nearly infinite years in the dry regret of touching the rope of existence. It is also a strange illusion to understand another human being. The bitter poison of the rift between the darkness under this impossible mass seeks to narrate the truth. While our biochemistry is devoid of the discourse of existence and the poetic sadness of death, our biochemistry is devoid of the lessons of existence. The fluid poetic sadness of death, the consuming desire delusion called "hope". Left no place for human to the point of leaving the circle of life go away and vanish in the dark path of our days. That is not the meaning of life, it was pure, and my first fundamental knowledge of myself was a desire to die.}

_{Parjam Parsi}