What Happens: Events Interiors, Snatch Them From

And I Was Afraid. She Frightens Me Because She Can Knock Me Down With A Word. Because She Does Not Know That Writing Is Walking On A Dizzying Silence Setting One Word After The Other On Emptiness. Writing Is Miraculous And Terrifying Like The Flight Of A Bird Who Has No Wings But Flings Itself Out And Only Gets Wings By Flying.

You Only Have To Look At The Medusa Straight On To See Her. And She's Not Deadly. She's Beautiful And She's Laughing.

I Do Believe In Poetry. I Believe That There Are Creatures Endowed With The Power To Put Things Together And Bring Them Back To Life

When I Write, It's Everything That We Don't Know We Can Be That Is Written Out Of Me, Without Exclusions, Without Stipulation, And Everything We Will Be Calls Us To The Unflagging, Intoxicating, Unappeasable Search For Love. In One Another We Will Never Be Lacking.

If My Desire Is Possible, It Means The System Is Already Letting Something Else Through.