because love cannot always fly without resting, our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea: our kisses head back home where they belong ... Clasping my arms like a climbing plant the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace. Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning. Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul ... A pale blonde went by like a golden plant swaying her gifts. And my mouth went like a wave discharging on her breast lightningbolts of blood ... Home