The Ardent Hymn That Unites Peoples.

In What Language Does Rain Fall Over Tormented Cities?

The Morning Is Full Of Storm In The Heart Of Summer. The Clouds Travel Like White Handkerchiefs Of Goodbye, The Wind, Travelling, Waving Them In Its Hands. The Numberless Heart Of The Wind Beating Above Our Loving Silence. Orchestral And Divine, Resounding Among The Trees Like A Language Full Of Wars And Songs.

For Now I Ask No More Than The Justice Of Eating.

To Feel The Love Of People Whom We Love Is A Fire That Feeds Our Life.

I Was The Owner Of My Own Darkness.