If blue is dream what then innocence? What awaits the heart if Love bears no arrows?

Theatre is poetry that rises from the book and becomes human enough to talk and shout, weep and despair

In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.

But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.

I put my head out of my window and see how much the wind’s knife wants to slice it off. On this unseen guillotine, I’ve placed the eyeless head of all my desires.

I will always be on the side of those who have nothing and who are not even allowed to enjoy the nothing they have in peace.

Those who are afraid of death will carry it on their shoulders.