Even boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?

Dying - you can't do that to a cat.

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

Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan

I've had the good fortune to read a lot of great American writers in translation, and my absolute beloved, for me one of the greatest writers ever, is Mark Twain. Yes, yes, yes. And Whitman, from whom the whole of 20th-century poetry sprung up. Whitman was the origin of things, someone with a completely different outlook. But I think that he's the father of the new wave in the world's poetry which to this very day is hitting the shore.

My choices are rejections, since there is no other way, but what I reject is more numerous, denser, more demanding than before. A little poem, a sigh, at the cost of indescribable losses.

It's just not easy to explain to someone else what you don't understand yourself.