We're alert, but our days are stolen. Life passes like a background murmur. A remnant of unique experiences that aren't always noticed, even when warning signs are all along the way, interrupting the speed of thought, ideas, dreams, and ramblings we immerse ourselves in during moments of contemplation. Traffic signs, those colorful planes superimposed on the horizon that distract us from the landscape, are there to save us from the resounding moment when we crash into the end, or so they say, even if to avoid it they must keep us in a state of permanent tension.
