I am sick of death and worst of all this sickness feeds on itself, the more afraid I am the more I am afraid the more I flee the more I am afraid the more I am haunted.
Everything ends with flowers.
Only when you are lost can love find itself in you without losing its way.
Me too, I make do, I anoint what cannot be fixed.
It is said that life and death are under the power of language.
The only book that is worth writing is the one we don’t have the courage or strength to write. The book that hurts us (we who are writing), that makes us tremble, redden, bleed