domingo, 20 de marzo de 2011


No one comes back from the dead, no one has entered the world without crying; no one is asked when he wishes to enter life, nor when he wishes to leave.

Time passes, life is a stream, people say, and so on. I haven't noticed it. Time stands still and I with it. All the plans I form fly straight back at me, when I want to spit in my own face.