“The ant seemed to hesitate for a moment and then moved forward slightly. It must have been a huge circular passage for it. It was when I was maybe, 7 years old, I was pushing an ant through one of the holes of straw to see if the ant could pass through it. The straw was translucent pink, and in the middle there was a spiral bend like a pretzel. I was excited to think as if I was in it, like in the middle of a spaceship from a science fiction story. The ant did not actively move - I became impatient. Why would this little creature doesn't move as I wish? All it had to do was walk along the path in front of it and go to the endpoint. I shook the straw. It seemed like sticking there was the only thing it could do. I suddenly felt frustrated, like a sharp kick from the stomach, and it wasn’t because the ant didn’t move. It was from somewhere you can't move forward or standstill. The exit in front of me, was not an exit. The frustration soon filled with a void that brought greater fear. There was no sensation, but only intense feelings of no sensation, nevertheless, in the void, dried and twisted fear was mercilessly tearing the flesh. Whose flesh was then? The eyes of the singing animals, and a song of their boredom and anger...At that moment, I became that little ant, and I was hitting the void with my whole body. With that small, pale body that will disappear when blown by the wind.”