¿Y qué importa si somos iguales o somos distintos? ¿Qué importa lo que nos diferencia? Si lo deseara, Bobby Boy, podría ser exactamente igual que tú. A la larga, El ruido del mundo será el mismo que hacen tus tripas mientras duermes.

Have you ever heard the voice of what you've never dared to say?

Ya te lo dije, este es un juego solitario. Tú construyes el laberinto, tú lo recorres, el minotauro eres tú y no hay redención a la vista. No hay salvación.

I was born in the south. I lived with good old grandpa and lil' sister Theresa. I ran away from home when I was eight, I came back home the next day. Once, I tried to teach Theresa how to fly. I failed. Her neck was too fragile. I ran away again. I have never stopped running away ever since.

Leo tu poema mutilado y me pregunto qué aprendió Theresa. Leo tu pedazo de poema y me recuerdo a mí mismo enseñándoselo a Theresa. Yo lo escribí.

Perhaps you were your heaven.
Perhaps jumping doesn't take much
And falling can also be learned
Alone.

¿Quién es el autor de tus palabras, Bob? ¿A quién pertenece El ruido del mundo?

My sister Theresa was your age when you were hers.

Am I still running away? Are you my beloved Theresa?