I am from there. I am from here. I am not there and I am not here. I have two names, which meet and part, and I have two languages. I forget which of them I dream in.
I don't decide to represent anything except myself. But that self is full of collective memory.
We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope.
To be under occupation, to be under siege, is not a good inspiration for poetry.
Nothing is harder on the soul, than the smell of dreams, while they're evaporating.
Nothing, nothing justifies terrorism.