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...

Time is spiral like a record
and now is the needle...

Fleeing from her bite
the giddy kitten of clock...

Silence isn't voiceless
it's the very existence...