Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

Slowly my body grows a single sound, slowly I become a bell, an oval, disembodied vowel, I grow, an owl, an aureole, white fire poesia "Metamorfosi, I. Luna

The thing that is believed is a reality.

I try to forget what happiness was, and when that don't work, I study the stars.

The personal vocabulary, the individual melody whose metre is one's biography, joins in that sound, with any luck, and the body moves like a walking, a waking island.

How can I turn from Africa and live?