Old Women Can See Through Walls.

I Want To Be A Poet, From Head To Toe, Living And Dying By Poetry.

I Have Often Lost Myself In The Sea, Ears Full Of Newly Cut Flowers, Tongue Full Of Love And Agony.

Only Mystery Allows Us To Live, Only Mystery.

The Two Elements The Traveler First Captures In The Big City Are Extra Human Architecture And Furious Rhythm. Geometry And Anguish.

Today In My Heart A Vague Trembling Of Stars And All Roses Are As White As My Pain.