The Metaphor For Palestine Is Stronger Than

I Believe In The Power Of Poetry, Which Gives Me Reasons To Look Ahead And Identify A Glint Of Light.

I See What I Want Of Love... I See Horses Making The Meadow Dance, Fifty Guitars Sighing, And A Swarm Of Bees Suckling The Wild Berries, And I Close My Eyes Until I See Our Shadow Behind This Dispossessed Place... I See What I Want Of People: Their Desire To Long For Anything, Their Lateness In Getting To Work And Their Hurry To Return To Their Folk... And Their Need To Say: Good Morning.

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

Nothing Is Harder On The Soul, Than The Smell Of Dreams, While They're Evaporating.

Far Away, Our Dreams Have Nothing To Do With What We Do. The Wind Carries The Night, And Passes On, Aimless.