I Ask Myself: Is Every

Do You Know That Hope Sometimes Consists Only Of A Question Without An Answer?

I Hear The Mad Song Of A Little Bird And Crush Butterflies Between My Fingers.

What I Want Is To Live Of That Initial And Primordial Something That Was What Made Some Things Reach The Point Of Aspiring To Be Human.

The Only Truth Is That I Live. Sincerely, I Live. Who Am I? Well, That's A Bit Much.

A Horse Is Freedom So Indominable That It Becomes Useless To Imprison It To Serve Man: It Lets Itself Be Domesticated, But With A Simple, Rebellious Toss Of The Head-shaking Its Mane Like An Abundance Of Free-flowing Hair-it Shows That Its Inner Nature Is Always Wild, Translucent And Free.