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Falling asleep, waiting for something new to arise.
Awaiting a society who will help them out.
Sometimes slumber becomes an escapade rather than a real need, but an escapade which sweeps pain, difficulties and struggles away.
With a backpack working as a pillow, a cardboard acting as a mattress and the world as home, they counter their daily existence living through expedients and hard earning what they need to stay afloat, having at times a carton of wine to drown their memories and a sunbeam to warm their souls as their sole consolation.
The world has become to them such an hectic place to live in, where everything is taken for granted, all has already been viewed, nothing triggers surprise anymore and where is easy to become invisible, alienated, non-existent and a mere part of the urban fabric.
While sleeping, perhaps, memories coming from a better past are brought to life, for a moment, the remote happiness comes back to surface, hope restarts lightening the heart, a heart which is now solely working as a vital organ and no longer as an emotional box, and this is when faces, suffering during wakefulness, cheer up and become like the one of an infant lying in his cradle before opening his eyes wide and staring at the affectionate faces of his parents, but this is just a dream.

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