To Think Is An Act. To Feel

Putting My Hand In Someone Else’s Has Always Been My Definition Of Happiness. Before I Fall Asleep, Often - In That Small Struggle Not To Lose Consciousness And Go Into The Greater World - Often, Before I Get Up The Courage To Go Into The Vastness Of Sleep, I Pretend That Someone Has My Hand In Theirs, And Then I Go, Go To That Enormous Absence Of Form That Is Sleep. And When Even After That I Don’t Have Courage, I Dream.

What I Want Is To Live Of That Initial And Primordial Something That Was What Made Some Things Reach The Point Of Aspiring To Be Human.

At First She Dreamed Of Sheep, Of Going To School, Of Cats Drinking Milk. Little By Little She Dreamed Of Blue Sheep, Of Going To School In The Middle Of The Woods, Of Cats Drinking Milk From Golden Saucers. And Her Dreams Became Increasingly Dense And Acquired Colours That Were Difficult To Dilute Into Words.

Ela Acreditava Em Anjo E, Porque Acreditava, Eles Existiam" | "she Believed In Angels, And, Because She Believed, They Existed

No It Is Not Easy To Write. It Is As Hard As Breaking Rocks. Sparks And Splinters Fly Like Shattered Steel.