We Suffer From An Incurable Malady: Hope.

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.

To Be Under Occupation, To Be Under Siege, Is Not A Good Inspiration For Poetry.

May Poetry And God's Name Have Mercy On Us!

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

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