“How is it possible to feel nostalgia for a world I never knew?”

“Only that which can change can continue.”

“My mind follows the night wind
over dunes and pinnacles
I can hear it whisper
each time more softly
that there is no need
to come back,
that I myself am the wind
so long whispering that our identities
are both cast in doubt.”

“Life appears: a complex dampness, destined to an intricate future and charged with secret virtues, capable of challenge and creation. A kind of precarious slime, of surface mildew, in which a ferment is already working. A turbulent, spasmodic sap, a presage and expectation of a new way of being, breaking with mineral perpetuity and boldly exchanging it for the doubtful privilege of being able to tremble, decay, and multiply.”