Who Am I To Myself? Just A

There Are Those That Even God Exploits, And They Are Prophets And Saints In The Vacuousness Of The World.

Ser Compreendido é Prostituir-se.

Yes, Talking To People Makes Me Sleepy.

A Being Who, As I Grew Older, Lost Imagination, Emotion, A Type Of Intelligence, A Way Of Feeling Things - All That Which, While It Made Me Sorry, Did Not Horrify Me. But What Am I Experiencing When I Read Myself As If I Were Someone Else? On Which Bank Am I Standing If I See Myself In The Depths?

The Chill Of What I Won't Feel Gnaws At My Present Heart.