In Insomnia Log, "Distance loses shape over time", however the word returns to give it that necessary shape in the mud of memory. Faced with these existential effigies, the poem is “a land called a city”, and in it the speaker is a house, a bridge, a park, a corner, a boulevard; spaces of enchantment and aberration where "the birds, the compass, the things on the road die every day"; where the eternal happens and then the ephemeral; I pass it by back and forth, in a sphere that "drowned in evil transmutes words." They make this lyrical cosmos in the Logbook of Insomnia that become Echoes of Rocio, saviors, redeemers, protectors; and they allow the vate to break the morning with a sigh, to record the itinerary of her passage through the intimate places of being and those of the world.