Conversation March 2, 2015 3:29:40 PM – 3:31:46 PM

We are the delicate, the quiet. Can I write like that? I tell you this, because I was lost in that desert for a longer period of time. In every day, remnants of meaning slid along with me. I would like to give you all my diamonds. One morning, you let a piece of the sky rest against my chest. In a different autumn, I would have been embarrassed by sampling. Like reading forgotten newspapers. In the lips and in the skin. One night, giraffes from dreams.