Photo © Michel Delsol

Perhaps If Human Desire Is Said Out Loud, The Urban Planes, The Prisons, The Architectural Mirrors Will Take Off, As Airplanes Do. The Black Planes Will Take Off Into The Night Air And The Night Winds, Sliding Past And Behind Each Other, Zooming, Turning And Turning In The Redness Of The Winds, Living, Never To Return.

A Language Is The Appearances Of Connections Therefore Language As In Writing Doesn't Express Anything: It Creates.

I Might Be Writing What People Expect Me To Write, Writing From That Place Where I Might Be Ruled By Economic Considerations. To Overcome That, I Started Working With My Dreams, Because Im Not So Censored When I Use Dream Material.

But : We're Still Human. Human Because We Keep On Battling Against All These Horrors, The Horrors Caused And Not Caused By Us. We Battle Not In Order To Stay Alive, That Would Be Too Materalistic, For We Are Body And Spirit, But In Order To Love Each Other.

Those Who Are Driven By Poverty, Those Who're Free From Material Worries Hunger Exhausting Labor A Joyless Existence Ask The Same Question, The Question Of Meaning.