It is still beautiful to hear the heart beat but often the shadow seems more real than the body.

We always feel younger than we are. I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. The sum of them is me. The mirror sees only my latest face, while I know all my previous ones.

I am still the place where creation does some work on itself.

A person shows himself for an instant as in a photograph but clearer and in the background something which is bigger than his shadow.

It's always so early in here, before the crossroads, before the irrevocable choices. Thank you for this life! Still I miss the alternatives. The sketches, all of them, want to become real.

I am carried in my shadow like a violin in its black case

The airy sky has taken its place leaning against the wall. It is like a prayer to what is empty And what is empty turns its face to us and whispers: 'I am not empty, I am open'.