The sound of the air cut while a stone travels, at great speed, thrown with all your strength. The scream that escapes after the sudden impact of a projectile on your chest or an unexpected rock lash imprisons your hand. The first voice, the primeval stone, the first tool. The vernacular expression of being as an entity against nature, against life, against pain. It is the primitive lament that bruises the throat when going out in an excessive way when the body unfolds and is in front of itself, being offering and executioner, altar and priest, stone and blood. To ignore the divine in the greatness of creation and bring it to the surface, turning prayer into rock, the word in dust and pain in prayer, thereby closing the human/superhuman duality, and the language/voice / image trinity.