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

In the middle of life, death comes to take your measurements. The visit is forgotten and life goes on. But the suit is being sewn on the sly.

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 still the place where creation does some work on itself.

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'.

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