The voices of time, the screams from out of time, from all the time, from no time at all.

The voices inside, spelling hidden truths, things long forgotten, others not forgotten at all, although you wish they were not there.

Voices.

Inside you, fulfilling, reminding, to quote a passage from a song by Zee.

Voices out of the ages, people that were once here but aren't anymore. People who are gone, but their esssence remain. Not ordinary people, like you or me, but people in the real sense of the word, not just living beings that breathe, sleep, eat, defecate, living their still lives. People indeed. With more than high standards and intelectuality.

There's nothing wrong in being an intelectual.

Voices in time, full time, nowhere time. No time at all.

No time to put your voice in the air. The world'll be dead and gone before someone understands your babbling. Before you yourself understands them.

Voices coming from the deep space, beyond Star Trek, above the hidden villa where they kept the Prisoner a prisoner once again. Or forever.

Voices that scream at my ears at the telephone, yet I crawl towards it all the same.

Voices.

Out of time.

Out of the grave.

Out of nowhere.

(Why botter?!).