Originally, all souls have the same potential. Like a flower getting around obstacles to rise, in pursuit of light, we travel through the small paths. The rose has thorns only for those who want to pluck it. The sun carves time in landscape and melancholy in our faces, destiny is only beautiful because we have enjoyed the trip. The trail is unique for all, the means to achieve the goal vary by traveler Footprints testify our passage, and on the road, the seeds sown bear their fruits. What we did, what we did not do, what we dreamed of, one day everything comes together Whatever the route itinerary, summits or oceans, paths interwine at caressing dusk. An age goes, an age comes, and the Earth still stands. It is a staircase whose level gets lost in the clouds, it is rumored that we would come there from the same origin.