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 ... Their softness came flying over time, over the sea, over the smoke, over the spring, and when you placed your hands on my chest, I recognized those golden dove wings, I recognized that clay and that color of wheat ... 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