Although each time we are a new version of ourselves, we always seek in that new composition to remake ourselves from the private and intimate space that is our bed, the place where we rest and where ideas, obsessions and our most longed desires are born. We exorcise ourselves in that invisible fluid of our thoughts that, like blood, seeps through and nicks each of our rocks, (re)shaping the structure that we are: the hard shell that intends to set up the most beautiful simulation, though deep down it can be removed from the most delicate and tender tissue that we hide.