The ideas were coming to my mind as rolling spheres.
But the spheres became cubes as the ice cubes that are stored in the fridge, waiting.
The time ran and ran too fast. The seconds became minutes and hours in a 19-hours day that lasted an instant and a 5-hours insomnia night fighting to rest.
Writting became a necessity and an impossible task. One day after another. The months passed with other thoughts in the mind. The polyhedron was stored in a box over the vitrine full of dusty glasses. Sometimes there was a bright ray in the box and some words used to fall as water drops. But the polyhedron remained caged because the glass remained empty.
Fortunately, this is a rolling world that let me to clean the glasses and the ceramic figures shining with the sun.
I have put the polyhedron out of its box waiting the it can be outside for a while…