Why doesn’t anyone look at me? While everyone is looking at everything… I guess they don’t know of my genocide… Silence. So, how could I touch them… And now with all these wounds no one may know of my beauty… they only see chops and these scare them… Was it necessary for him to paint me like this… How unfair! Time. They want to see the genocide and they don’t see the victims… And him, that idiot… Time painter, who thinks that he is a nobleman like the prince, he made me like this for the others not to forget… But, why to remember me like this? What for, since I see them… Time. I see that they are indifferent to me… They barely pay attention to me… I guess ugliness protects me… He didn’t paint the man, but the victim… He didn’t paint me… but he wrote the condemnation of barbarity. He used me… He abused me. Of course, he is the only one to do this after my death… Silence. I don’t understand what all this means… Time. Didn’t he do it for me? Do you think… Is it for the others? It is with me that he created a work for the others, for humanity. It is together that we help the wounded humanity. Silence. I thank you for thinking of me.