Man Has To Live With The Body

In These Years We Are Witnessing The Gigantic Spectacle Of Innumerable Human Lives Wandering About Lost In Their Own Labyrinths, Through Not Having Anything To Which To Give Themselves.

By Speaking, By Thinking, We Undertake To Clarify Things, And That Forces Us To Exacerbate Them, Dislocate Them, Schematize Them. Every Concept Is In Itself An Exaggeration.

Life Is The External Text, The Burning Bush By The Edge Of The Path From Which God Speaks.

Poetry Is Adolescence Fermented, And Thus Preserved.

To Be Surprised, To Wonder, Is To Begin To Understand. This Is The Sport, The Luxury, Special To The Intellectual Man.