Who he lights the lamp of your smiles
occasionally...

She put on a mask
realizing her old self...

The dawns of towns are
empowered by the spirits...

All her life searching
for real beauty seeing...

Those who've tried so hard
to sweep him away by brooms...

Life is a case of watercolour,
caterpillars relinquishing being crawlers...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

How I float on the flow of this music,
how I realize I am a share in this music...

She noticed her face
was a mask amongst many...

The nature of dream
is wakefulness...

The blood of whom they
worship: the blood of those they...

Horizon is the
paradox of arrival...