The breeze whispered to me:
see...

Why is loneliness
so crowded...

Oh yes,
it’s always a good pitch that does it...

Parallels,
creator and createe...

The hours—
they are pilgrims of solitude...

A star burns, flickers
within the fractures of these faces...

If loneliness were a flower,
it would be the most blossomed bloom in the...

All audiences are shadows—
save the one...

Two worthy opponents
two opposite dancers...

I was a ventriloquist
all my life until one day on stage...

I wonder if the Israeli army
bomb children in the sabbath day too...

No one could hear us.
We are so quiet yet our...