The cold stones remind us
that the words engraved...

O goddess shrouded in mystery,
have you ever seen your face...

Beauty is a lie
made up by the beholders...

My canvas was painted in black and white,
half blank, half drowning...

When i was young
i had no sense of direction...

No cheap candles,
no flowers, no chocolates...

I speak;
no one hears me...

The serpent devours
its own tail...

My body came
into my possession...

Walking around aimlessly for hours
i chanced upon them and i thought...

When people get together
after almost an eternity...

This is the row of tables
where, for four years...