I Love All Things, Not

My Soul Is An Empty Carousel At Sunset.

Absence Is A House So Vast That Inside You Will Pass Through Its Walls And Hang Pictures On The Air.

Am I Allowed To Ask My Book / Whether It's True I Wrote It?

Sufre Mas El Que Espera Siempre Que Aquel Que Nunca Espero A Nadie? Does He Who Is Always Waiting Suffer More Than He Who’s Never Waited For Anyone?

Where Were You Then? Who Else Was There? Saying What? Why Will The Whole Of Love Come On Me Suddenly When I Am Sad And Feel You Are Far Away?