I write to save someone's life, probably my own

Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

Love is so much more deadly than I had thought, love is so much inherent as the very lack, and we are guaranteed by a need to be renewed continuously. Love is now, is forever. There is just the blow of grace - call it passion.

But don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.

The only truth is that I live. Sincerely, I live. Who am I? Well, that's a bit much.

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 hear the mad song of a little bird and crush butterflies between my fingers.