Give up looking
in the mirror...

If I had five minutes
to talk to you...

The world is crumbling,
life has gone insane...

In a strange land
the sky was not my own...

We are somewhere
between the days before...

In the beginning
you gathered the wood...

I followed the others
to the Women’s Baths...

It’s not that you are lost
it’s that I am gone...

As a small child
I made a big promise...

We did not want to meet,
fierce migrants, wanting to fit in...

The night is made
for dreaming...

In years to come
when my bones are brittle...