I am the escaped one, After I was born They locked me up inside me But I left. My soul seeks me, Through hills and valley, I hope my soul Never finds me.
My homeland is the portuguese language.
Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.
My soul's the present shadow of a presence gone.
Life hurls us like a stone, and we sail through the air saying, "look at me move.
Every spoken word double-crosses us. The written word is the only tolerable form of communication, as it isn't a stone in a bridge between souls but a ray of light between stars.