
"Vojne, vojne. I must go back to my saltmine and all the equations I have to solve." Butt in her inner self she could hear the boy-poets poem sing and she made a continuation that she wanted to send him later on, when she had finished her tirework.
Butt vojne. Again! A friend that also worked with those equations had stolen her computerpassword to make fun of her father, so she had made a new very complicated one. The problem now was that she couldn't remember it, in all her stressworld. So she couldn't be her nicks anymore. Good advices were expensive and she had to think of something!
"Vojne, I have no password to life,",she thought. "I don't exist anymore. I will forever be that freckled plaitgirl, that looks like a teenager and noone will respect, when I tell them how to solve their problems. Not even my professor, that ought to
know."

So she was going home and she wrote the poem to the boy-poet. "He thinks I am an old lady that makes tea and that is encouraging. With him I feel grown-up."
And she wrote like this...
A glass full of sighs.
Poem inspired by a Salvadorian poet.
Somewhere, someone is weeping,
And the tears fall on the earth,
A thirsty flower will drink the salty sighs,
The wrinkled genesises are now blank,
They stretch their wings and run,
They will chase the sunburned twilight,
Till the night falls,
This is the end of the journey,
You will go home to your rain,
And I can at last stop ruining my freedom,
I am home, did you know?
Our (SS) is here,
It has been here all the time,
We didn't know what we had,
And now it is late night
And we lost the day...
With that she went to bed after twelve days nightshifts and she slept and slept and slept...Butt what came up at the horizon...