When it comes, you’ll be dreamingthat you don’t need to breathe;that breathless silence isthe music of the darkand it’s part of the rhythmto vanish like a spark.

This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.

When I pronounce the word Future,the first syllable already belongs to the past.When I pronounce the word Silence,I destroy it.