When I Die, I Will See The

A Weak Human Mercy Walks In The Corridors Of Hospitals And Is Like A Half-thawed Winter.

I Think That I Am Here, On This Earth, To Present A Report On It, But To Whom I Don't Know. As If I Were Sent So That Whatever Takes Place Has Meaning Because It Changes Into Memory.

It Is Impossible To Communicate To People Who Have Not Experienced It The Undefinable Menace Of Total Rationalism.

The Living Owe It To Those Who No Longer Can Speak To Tell Their Story For Them.

The Child Who Dwells Inside Us Trusts That There Are Wise Men Somewhere Who Know The Truth.