Now and before, at sunsets,
a soul looks at us from the depths of a mirror.

Once it had asked us to tell,
how may a person finds the way to hate his life,
or how it’s possible for someone to commit suicide and to condemn his self to death.
How a person from the bed of agony
and from the world of incurable disease asks for salvation in euthanasia.

Maybe for many of these words sound macabre,
dark and out of our world..
Maybe for the few, these words sound realistic.
But the soul of the mirror must show a pat of our soul.

This side of ours now, still remains surrounded by four walls.
With our mirror ornamenting the first.
A window on the second wall, dead, hanging.
A painting so fade out from time on the third.
The fourth wall still remains empty.

For the first we chose the mirror and substracted its frame.
For the second one, we hung a lace, yellow from time curtain.
For the third wall we left time to show its traces.
And for the last one, we didn’t touch it at all.
We left it empty, vacant, so it can remind us all of our dead parts of the existence.

Now the only thing that comes to our mind are Kahlil Gibran’s words:
- One day, as i was burying one of the dead parts of myself, the graveyard guardian come and told me:
- From all the people who come to bury here, only you I like.
- Thank you, i answered. But why do you like me?
- Because people come crying and leave crying; only you came smiling and laughing, and you leave still smiling and laughing, he said ..