I Realized That Searching Was

Come Sleep With Me: We Won't Make Love,love Will Make Us.

Why Have We Had To Invent Eden, To Live Submerged In The Nostalgia Of A Lost Paradise, To Make Up Utopias, Propose A Future For Ourselves?

For Me The Thing That Signals A Great Story Is What We Might Call Its Autonomy, The Fact That It Detaches Itself From Its Author Like A Soap Bubble Blown From A Clay Pipe.

Happy Was She Who Could Believe Without Seeing, Who Was At One With The Duration And Continuity Of Life.

The Modern Story Begun, One Might Say, With Edgar Allan Poe, Which Proceeds Inexorably, Like A Machine Destined To Accomplish Its Mission With The Maximum Economy Of Means.