Something so beautiful that I want to stumble into death. But then, remembering the undone, I travel
to space and time and I'm alive. It's a pity that the wings of the mind are also dark lords in disguise.
All a matter of fears. Dreams and futures are so unseen by day, on the working plane. Decision with precision and all being so unreal in the head while the world wars and peaces roll like yesterday and
forever. Individual mind. People of the soul and people of the mind, also people of the body... Love,
only love to join it all in one. Yet love, being the most impeccable intuition, knows not the ways of
men. So, difficult it is to be a loving man. May love be a highway of infinite expression between lines
of art. Concrete it seems though life never (is).