Fine and delicate folded paper. White, in the middle of the
room, it seems minuscule. It multiplies itself, however, through its projected shadow. Symbol of the beauty extending from myself to the other and
returning to me. Small gesture, and gift, that brings me consolation and reminds me of why what I do matters. Because, after writing, someone folds a lovely light Tsuru and returns to me the wings I have helped setting free.
I once dated a werewolf Eyes like flashlights showing the path I once walked the path I found lost words I found lost pain I once threw my car from a bridge In the highest speed When street lights seemed like flying arrows and the water from the lake was a dark brick wall I once threw stones at the windows of the moon and sailed a boat of stardust in a lightless night I crossed the borders in disguise and spoke a million tongues I now decided to forget I once danced with a king on top of the highest tower No one ever saw the king No one, but me I once was a speck of dust I once was a grain of sand I was part of a hurricane And I landed on another land I once dreamt new dreams and wrote them on napkins I once wrote poems on spaceships and lies on pages of ancient books no one ever read I once took a look I once took a pick I once took a bite It did not do the trick ...
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