A big city. Stable. Solid. Immobile. Colossal. A desert, constantly changing without deceiving the seconds that pass from the pleasure that generates the constant change of its wavy shape. A dune. Grains of sand. Bunch of them. Rough grains that slides between the fingers of the hand. The warm feeling of the grains exposed to the sun. Toasted skin. Warm. To feel. To give life to the hands. To feel the living nature of objects. To mimic ourselves with the material-subject. To not destroy it. Fresh and warm mud. That while touching the skin, dries and cracks.