Who hasn't sharpened the edge of his soul? When, just as our eyes are opened, we see hate, and just after learning to walk, we are tripped, and just for wanting to love, we are hated, and for no more than touching, we are hurt, which of us hasn't started to arm himself, to make himself sharp, somehow, like a knife, to pay back the hurt?

Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

O merry, merry, merry, like only dogs know how to be happy and nothing more, with an absolute shameless nature.

Between lips and lips there are cities of great ash and moist summit, drops of when and how, vague comings and goings: between lips and lips as along a shore of sand and glass the wind passes.

Tomorrow we will only give them a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf which will fall on the earth like if it had been made by our lips like a kiss which falls from our invincible heights to show the fire and the tenderness of a true love.

I move in the university of the waves.

I'm not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.