In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we're no more than castrated cats

Even on the poorest streets people could be heard laughing. Some of these streets were completely dark, like black holes, and the laughter that came from who knows where was the only sign, the only beacon that kept residents and strangers from getting lost.

Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.

The secret story is the one we'll never know, although we're living it from day to day, thinking we're alive, thinking we've got it all under control and the stuff we overlook doesn't matter.

Coincidence obeys no laws and if it does we don't know what they are. Coincidence, if you'll permit me the simile, is like the manifestation of God at every moment on our planet. A senseless God making senseless gestures at his senseless creatures. In that hurricane, in that osseous implosion, we find communion.

In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we're no more than castrated cats

We never stop reading, although every book comes to an end, just as we never stop living, although death is certain.