listen to me as one listens to the rain, the years go by, the moments return, do you hear the footsteps in the next room? not here, not there: you hear them in another time that is now, listen to the footsteps of time, inventor of places with no weight, nowhere, listen to the rain running over the terrace, the night is now more night in the grove, lightning has nestled among the leaves, a restless garden adrift-go in, your shadow covers this page.

Poetry is not truth, it is the resurrection of presences.

To love is to battle, to open doors, to cease to be a ghost with a number forever in chains, forever condemned by a faceless master; the world changes if two look at each other and see.

The ideal of a single civilization for everyone, implicit in the cult of progress and technique, impoverishes and mutilates us

By suppressing differences and peculiarities, by eliminating different civilizations and cultures, progress weakens life and favors death

Modern man likes to pretend that his thinking is wide-awake. But this wide-awake thinking has led us into the mazes of a nightmare in which the torture chambers are endlessly repeated in the mirrors of reason.

The value of e-commerce is not in the e, but in the commerce.