Sometimes I write quickly, sometimes I spend several weeks on a single poem. I would really love for readers not to be able to guess which of the poems took so much work!

Poorly prepared for the dignity of life, I barely keep up with the pace of the action imposed. Reality demands.

Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.

I am a tarsier and a tarsier's son, the grandson and great-grandson of tarsiers, a tiny creature, made up of two pupils and whatever simply could not be left out.

Even the worst book can give us something to think about.

When it comes, you’ll be dreaming that you don’t need to breathe; that breathless silence is the music of the dark and it’s part of the rhythm to vanish like a spark.