Invisibilities

If Adelma is a city I am seeing in a dream, where you encounter only the dead, the dream frightens me. If Adlema is a real city, inhabited by living people, I need only continue looking at them and the ressemblences will desolve, alien faces will appear, bearing anguish. In either case it is best for me not to insist on staring at them.
You reach a moment in life when, among the people you have known, the dead outnumber the living. And the mind refuses to accept more faces, more expressions: on every new face you encounter, it prints the old forms, for each one it finds the most suitable mask.
... I was assailed by unexpected faces, reappearing from far away, staring at me as if demanding recognition, as if to recognize me, as if they had already recognised me. perhaps fro each of them, I also resembled someone who was dead. I had barely arrived at Adelma and I was already one of them, I had gone over to their side, absorbed in the kaleidoscope of eyes, wrinkles, grimaces.
Perhaps Adelma is the city where you arrive dying and where each finds again the people he has known. This means I am, too, dead. This means the beyond is not happy.