Before I knew that people die, I imagined that they disappear, abandon the house and evaporate and leave us bewildered, looking at their empty bed, which resembles the morning cry and its slap, dreaming of them every night, knowing that they are still alive, that they are calling to us, they come back home - always the same dreams - until you actually end up believing that they are alive. And there are also studies that say that seventy percent of the missing return. Perhaps you are not a believer in God, but you are a believer in studies, you cling to these percentages as if they were a prayer, and the numbers, along with the dreams, turn that person into a kind of living dead, a zombie. I know all that very well.