I admit ..

I am in love, God’s gazelle ..

I excel at the game of coats ..

And tying the laces of my shoes ..

I love rock music and Mozart alike ..

And I feel sorrow because no one shares with me the habit of inhaling book dust ..

The dust that opened doors in my body, to let out the screaming trapped inside the reckless trachea ..

My screaming was not panting, nor was it moaning, but screaming that exhausts my soul and prevents me from seeing and hearing ..

I can say, while searching for my meaning through all this matter ..

I was in the dual sense of the word - occupied -

And naive idealism, my dear ..

Is what shouts inside me ..

Wishing to cancel my isolation..

Not the isolation - itself -

But my own isolation ..

My silence ..

The silence that never stops screaming

Because there is some voice ..

- inside me that never ends -

Perhaps I have the desire for the silence behind the doors .. to become like the prophets ..

To the rhythm of the drums, we enter the dust of music with bare feet .. so that love becomes our only clothing?

I am painful at the same time ..

Like the story that seems like all, then disappears

I do not know .. !

Will wisdom possess me, without going to others, and without telling anyone ..

For I am certain of one thing and that is I love to write for you alone

How terrible is this feeling .. ?

Believe me ..

- Nothingness did not confuse me ..

Existence confused me .. !!

The painting by the Italian painter

"Leonardo da Vinci "