A Suffering Nightingale Who Was Losing Its Blood Gave Birth ...

...And Then Everything Was Beautiful Again

Tiny Beings Of Pure Light Emerge One By One

In The Face Of Something Unspeakable They Waited With A Strange Equanimity

I Was Life, Behind Me There Is Nothing

Magic Is A Rare And Fleeting Phenomenon

To Believe Without Seeing

A Profound Gloom Prevails On A Bright Afternoon