All of us here who ‘write,’ we do not know what we do, we are crazy, foolish, we wander along invisible streams, we run backwards and forwards incessantly before metal- grating that doesn’t exist, we seek till the exhaustion of the
contents of our heads, to pass, to pass what, to pass from a region of feeling to a
region of what, of painting with words what moves us without wandering
abandoned along deserts without knowing where the door that opens that gives
access to the other side.
Also here is my grand daughter just because she's awesome