I escaped from the routine to be the pilot in my voyage because the cube in which I lived became a purgatory. I was an object waiting to become ash, one day I decided to listen to the breeze. To go, falling behind your shirt. Nobody convinced me, your smile convinced me. And I went after you, perusing an instinct. If you want a true change, then change the way you walk. I'm going to escape to the nearest constellation, luck is my oxygen, and your eyes are my window.