Unhappiness was my god.
The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
You will always be a hyena.
It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
True life is elsewhere
It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.