If you should ask me where I've been all this time I have to say "Things happen." I have to dwell on stones darkening the earth, on the river ruined in its own duration: I know nothing save things the birds have lost, the sea I left behind, or my sister crying. Why this abundance of places? Why does day lock with day? Why the dark night swilling round in our mouths? And why the dead?

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

Love has to be…flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.

Fue adondo a mi me perdieron quw logre por fin encontrarme? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?

Love is a clash of lightnings

When I got the chance I asked them a slew of questions. They offered to burn me; it was the only thing they knew.

For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.