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

Holding someone's hand was always my idea of joy.

To think is an act. To feel is a fact.

You don't understand music: you hear it. So hear me with your whole body.

I' is merely one of the world's instantaneous spasms.

I work only with lost and founds.

I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself.