The Soul Of A Murderer

Everything Is True, And Nothing Is True!

Empires And Churches Are Born Under The Sun Of Death.

Turbulent Childhood, Adolescent Daydreams In The Drone Of The Bus's Motor, Mornings, Unspoiled Girls, Beaches, Young Muscles Always At The Peak Of Their Effort, Evening's Slight Anxiety In A Sixteen-year-old-heart, Lust For Life, Fame, And Ever The Same Sky Through The Years, Unfailing In Strength And Light, Itself Insatiable, Consuming One By One Over A Period Of Months The Victims Stretched Out In The Form Of Crosses On The Beach At The Deathlike Hour Of Noon.

It Is Always Easy To Be Logical. It Is Almost Impossible To Be Logical To The Bitter End.

I Have Always Felt I Lived On The High Seas, Threatened, At The Heart Of A Royal Happiness.