The groan of the half-sleeping boulevard ached the dreamy inhabitants of the big city. The dream escaped from their eyes, and there was no time to leave their marks at least on their lips. Forgotten about the adventures they had given their dreams, people rushed into the wild rhythm of their city, frightened to death so that no one could overtake them. And Death was not in a hurry. Like a monster, she had dropped her tentacles to every corner and knew that if she did not catch the prey, she would at least plant her seed in a deserted soul. And her seeds grew fast and did not need watering or fertilizing. They knew what to do.