Something inside me – they call it a poetic self – is finally asked to unveil, to show, to develop itself. It has always been there, been part of me, but nobody ever asked it specifically to come to the surface. It is even closer to my true self than…

Sounds swirls around us, tongues of silence speaks of love, breathing, heavy, calm, teardrops falling in tin-bowls, silent sobbing, sand sliding through fingers and hands, firewood cracks open, red and green stars, the dust is descending inside these walls, condensed thoughts, lumps in throats, eyelashes clashing, hanging birch-wood-branches, spirits memories…