I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played.

Even a painful longing is some form of presence.

I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played.

Tell me what's the difference

I write in order to comprehend, not to express myself.

Letters of the condemned. Last words scratched on a cell’s wall. To write like that.

Where your pain is, there your heart lies also.