"I live on the edge of a sleepy soul, a moist rose, and an infinite lilac sky beneath my chin."

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"It’s so hard to describe what I feel when I feel I really exist and my soul is a real entity that I don’t know what human words could define it. I don’t know if I have a fever, as I feel I do, or if I’ve stopped having the fever of sleeping through life. Yes, I repeat, I’m like a traveller who suddenly finds himself in a strange town, without knowing how he got there, which makes me think of those people who lose their memory and for a long time are not themselves but someone else. I was someone else for a long time - since birth and consciousness - and suddenly I’ve woken up in the middle of a bridge, leaning over the river and knowing that I exist more solidly than the person I was up till now. But the city is unknown to me, the streets are new, and the trouble has no cure. And so, leaning over the bridge, I wait for the truth to go away and let me return to being fictitious and non-existent, intelligent and natural."

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"I think that’s what’s wrong with the world; no one says what they really feel, they always hold it inside. They’re sad, but they don’t cry. They’re happy, but they don’t dance or sing. They’re angry, but they don’t scream. Because if they do, they feel ashamed, and that’s the worst feeling in the world. So everyone walks with their heads down and no one sees how beautiful the sky is."

665 notes