I work only with lost and founds.

Facts and particulars annoy me.

And I want to be held down. I don't know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.

My life, the most truthful one, is unrecognizable, extremely interior, and there is no single word that gives it meaning.

I do not know much. But there are certain advantages in not knowing. Like virgin territory, the mind is free of preconceptions. Everything I do not know forms the greater part of me: This is my largesse. And with this I understand everything. The things I do not know constitute my truth.

I ask myself: is every story that has ever been written in this world, a story of suffering and affliction?

Her curiosity instructed her more than the answers she was given.