Me and My Father's Stomach

I was walking down the street with my father’s stomach in my bag. The cold wind was blowing over my face and my sleepy conscious was walking in a dream, or rather a nightmare, right on the street. It had been already a couple of days since I arrived to the city after 6 months of absence and this was the first time I was in the center. Me, a part of my father, and his stomach and his tumors, no longer part of him were on the same street, feeling the same storms in the water…