There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them. Snow, rain, and mist highlight, drench, or conceal the vast towers, but those towers, hostile to mystery and blind to any sort of play, shear off the rain's tresses and shine their three thousand swords through the soft swan of the fog.
Federico Garcia LorcaI put my head out of my window and see how much the windโs knife wants to slice it off. On this unseen guillotine, Iโve placed the eyeless head of all my desires.
Federico Garcia Lorca