Cracking, breaking, crumbling until it dissolves into dust. Inhale for a long time, exhale hastily. Stroking the toad’s back until the echo of the croak fades. It buzzes in the distance and sluggishly, briskly it drifts there, without goal but nevertheless with end in sight. One step after the other. Even if these steps are not always regular. Until the synthetic gives up, the electrifying glow grows cold and one has finally arrived.