I have been standing here for sixty years to come back to myself ... knock on the doors whose inhabitants have been absent, and walk in the paths whose people have left, And I ask the faces that have changed, and I am waiting for the answers that have died, and I listen, so that I may hear the whinny of the blonde coming from a deep crudge, and the horse only has its voice? Will the beloved voice that drowned in the sea of the past return to me? Standing waiting for me ... any misery is too much for one to wait for himself, which he denied after a long loss ...?! Here was my grandfather, here was my father, here was my mother .. Why did you not stay longer, why did you leave the orphan lover alone ?!