Of All Our Feelings The

As If You Could Pick In Love, As If It Were Not A Lightning Bolt That Splits Your Bones And Leaves You Staked Out In The Middle Of The Courtyard. (...) You Don't Pick Out The Rain That Soaks You To The Skin When You Come Out Of A Concert.

La Maga Did Not Know That My Kisses Were Like Eyes Which Began To Open Up Beyond Her, And That I Went Along Outside As If I Saw A Different Concept Of The World, The Dizzy Pilot Of A Black Prow Which Cut The Water Of Time And Negated It.

Where Are The Beginnings, The Endings, And Most Important, The Middles?

All Profound Distraction Opens Certain Doors. You Have To Allow Yourself To Be Distracted When You Are Unable To Concentrate.

Memory Is A Mirror That Scandalously Lies.