...And it sings, sings... Would you mind if I die? I write about sensations, moods and apparitions, while people give parties to cover the silence. There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control. And death sings, sings... Would you mind if I die? What did you want when you continued to ask? My energies must be direct to an act. I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions. I yearn they have a positive origin Intolerant towards imperfection. I practise a secret auto-therapy, I practise... a personal and secret auto-therapy, against the shame of publicly showing our own signs. (memento audere semper)