I Do Not Cut My Life Up

Some Of My Affectionate Envious Friends Say, "you Write Too Much." Maybe, I Answer. But As Long As The Best Of Your Little Is Worse Than The Worst Of My Much, I Will Keep On Doing So.

I Am Not I. I Am This One Walking Beside Me Whom I Do Not See, Whom At Times I Manage To Visit, And Whom At Other Times I Forget; Who Remains Calm And Silent While I Talk, And Forgives, Gently, When I Hate, Who Walks Where I Am Not, Who Will Remain Standing When I Die.

Sharp Nostalgia, Infinite And Terrible, For What I Already Possess.

My Only Two Weapons: Time And Silence.

The Urban Man Is An Uprooted Tree, He Can Put Out Leaves, Flowers And Grow Fruit But What A Nostalgia His Leaf, Flower, And Fruit Will Always Have For Mother Earth!