To Think Is An Act. To Feel

And Even Sadness Was Also Something For Rich People, For People Who Could Afford It, For People Who Didn't Have Anything Better To Do. Sadness Was A Luxury.

Holding Someone's Hand Was Always My Idea Of Joy.

I Want The Following Word: Splendor, Splendor Is Fruit In All Its Succulence, Fruit Without Sadness. I Want Vast Distances. My Savage Intuition Of Myself.

At First She Dreamed Of Sheep, Of Going To School, Of Cats Drinking Milk. Little By Little She Dreamed Of Blue Sheep, Of Going To School In The Middle Of The Woods, Of Cats Drinking Milk From Golden Saucers. And Her Dreams Became Increasingly Dense And Acquired Colours That Were Difficult To Dilute Into Words.

I Ask Myself: Is Every Story That Has Ever Been Written In This World, A Story Of Suffering And Affliction?