In a landscape with no cracks, on a stretched out, infinite road, over a surface as smooth as formica, I travelled fast, unfettered, shaken, across a scenery with an ungraspable horizon that passed by, prodigiously slow to my eyes, overwhelming to my ears. Music blared from the car speakers at the same time slow and furious, a music with a grating, penetrating beat, relentless like woodworm, pervasive, denying any space to any other thing, a low echo I felt through my breastbone rather than through my ears. And everything: the eternal landscape with formica surface, the breakneck speed that somehow felt like a body that lazily sank in deep water, the persistent beat of a music that penetrated me like a slow, ever turning drill, everything, I say, made me think of you. And the music went: "" I'm the one who loves you, you can always give me a call, turn to me".