Everyone should have a river, a sky a cornfield, and a root of village Maybe there’s s/he has only a dilapidated hut Even if s/he has none of these s/he should have a pride—his/her ancestors had; but my ancestors had none of these, or perhaps one of them once owned something, I inherited nothing—not an antique or ideograph, not even some unwritten history or any memory, or, I think, even any aarchetype in the unconscious. I’ve no well-known swamp, no axiomatic encompassing tree—only a name by which I might present my identity. I couldn’t even achieve a river, a sky, a forest or a cornfield—c/o them merely an address. I’m so unfortunate I’ve to fly constantly continent to continent like my ancestors like a floating prostitute, floating family on the river or sea—no root can grow from the boat as it does from a floating aquatic plant. And since I’m not of a Vedic or Gipsy community So, even I’ve no nostalgia, no repentance Even no time to regret something that’s lost—it’s so unfortunate