Life is hiding death
as much as death is the cause...

Windchill is howling in my veins,
as on the windows of these trains...

I was tiptoeing on the bough of a bird’s elation...
As much as the bird was clinging onto my finger...

The puddle always individuates itself against the...
even the rain constantly increases the puddle...

No acceleration in the falling speed
of a feather oscillating...

A black butterfly
sprinkling the dust of its flutter...

To go on going somewhere,
and that’s...

There is no bridge
of us any more...

Victims of bygones,
the tyrants of tomorrows...

One cannot fathom
things that are too obvious...

The crucifixion of these geometrical shapes
in the air...

When I do not find your black eyes
everything founders...