My Homeland Is Not A Suitcase, And

Against Barbarity, Poetry Can Resist Only By Confirming Its Attachment To Human Fragility Like A Blade Of Grass Growing On A Wall While Armies March By.

And You Became Like Coffee, In The Deliciousness, And The Bitterness, And The Addiction.

I Have Learned And Dismantled All The Words In Order To Draw From Them A Single Word: Home.

... For Me It Is Essential, Essential For The Poet To Have A New Toast, New Songs.

I Don't Decide To Represent Anything Except Myself. But That Self Is Full Of Collective Memory.