In my prayer, you were the center, my favorite predicate. Where we were more than pronouns, I, you and we. I barely realized that love could be just an object, direct, clear and straightforward. I, in the singular, dreaming in the plural, became a hidden subject... The agreement was missing, and I was not nominal. I was judged, conjugated incorrectly, I lost myself in time, I became past, more than imperfect, without the verbs I needed. And in the future of the past, there was an indicative, a dilemma that did not seem simple, perhaps compound. And when facing that chaos that cannot be explained, in the last homework, the verb to love decided to teach me the art of forgetting.