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I’m not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.

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I’m not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.
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If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life.
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I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.
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It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us.
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I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
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Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.
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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.
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In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.
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