Do t turn around to look. Even if in the hubbub of the crush (all, they escape, all in no particular order, they ascend the hallway to go down further, where the air is breathable again, I think one or the other disappeared behind a yellow door, no windows, they hit some shots, and enter the door on them are closed) you hear about distinct syllables of your name stand out against this background, printing inaccurate, it is still possible not to return. It is possible that all this is that the rumbling sound of footsteps on the stairs of concrete, not of those who are more advanced, who took up appearances sound of its syllables which, as a rule, generally, you and you only answer.
Do not look back, even if used to divert you from your not enrolled in your gestures, although the pattern seems inviolable and inevitable (you hear those syllables on the background of the world, so you don 't immobilized, and you've got used to support the view of that, so, you designate in the flow of the world) but this is not what it is today ... it is indeed that!
You just have to let yourself be carried away by the waves of the river which will bring you out, not hold you, as a reflex tense that this time might well become fatal to the banks of this stream, you have nothing else to do, you carried away by the waves murky and muddy running at fixed intervals, all you need to get off and be carried by the river, and not to make a movement to keep you, not listen to those who spell your name in the world's disorder, and who would hold you.
Do not turn away.
And if you fear still can not, (we can, indeed, consider the uncertainty of self, the intangible force of habit can certainly call into question even the most intense determination, and then this force would to make you inadvertently eye contact that you have to challenge), it is then necessary, by a sudden withdrawal of consciousness in an obscure corner more and more distant still, superimposing layers of artificial distance between the world and you, as it is superimposed possible thicknesses of indifference between the world and you and drag you away from the playlist of your iPod. Under this condition
ultimate, it seems possible to escape this hell.
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