In The Synagogue Of My

We Must Kill The False Woman Who Is Preventing The Live One From Breathing.

In The Synagogue Of My Heart... I Myself Jail And The Jailed, I Go Wounded, Bite-marked

Decisive Moment: The One When You Will Be Really Alone. And It Is Perhaps This That Makes Her Hesitate: Not The Void, But The Vastness Of The Solitude. It's As Well If You Are Frightened Of Solitude. It's A Sign That You Have Come To The Moment Of Your Birth.

You Only Have To Look At The Medusa Straight On To See Her. And She's Not Deadly. She's Beautiful And She's Laughing.

When I Write, It's Everything That We Don't Know We Can Be That Is Written Out Of Me, Without Exclusions, Without Stipulation, And Everything We Will Be Calls Us To The Unflagging, Intoxicating, Unappeasable Search For Love. In One Another We Will Never Be Lacking.