I Want A Bedroom Near The Sky,

I Lost My Ridiculous Accent Without Acquiring Another

Reading Is A Pleasure, But To Finish Reading, To Come To The Blank Space At The End, Is Also A Pleasure.

There Is The View That Poetry Should Improve Your Life. I Think People Confuse It With The Salvation Army.

Alone With Our Madness And Favorite Flower We See That There Really Is Nothing Left To Write About. Or Rather, It Is Necessary To Write About The Same Old Things In The Same Way, Repeating The Same Things Over And Over For Love To Continue And Be Gradually Different.

The Soul Is Not A Soul, Has No Secret, Is Small, And It Fits Its Hollow Perfectly: Its Room, Our Moment Of Attention.