As they moved one after the other, going through an unclear path, it felt like watching robots destined to a certain fate. They kept walking and walking all day long, the sweat on their faces like dogs drooling of thirst. But why? What pushed them to go through this pain? What pushed them to follow this path? They ran like there was a terrorist running after them. It was the run of survival. They were stuck in an era where running out of this world would do nothing good for them but was still the only solution. They were stuck in a world of hallucinations. That heavenly world they could escape to, away from their past, away from their present. They were slaves of work, and slaves to their own lives. They found a trance that gave them hope, a psychedelic world. That world was the only their own escape, but as well as their own prison.