« Time is an always accelerating train, keeping us stuck into our seats, watching life from there instead of conversing with our neighbours. »
Err… yes, I’m fine thanks.
« I » is a narrow clothe that our soul is wearing,
thus experimenting that « We » are one.
« Je » est un habit étroit que l’esprit a revêtu,
découvrant que « Nous » sommes unique.
« I hold that when a person dies
his soul again returns to earth
Arrayed in some new flesh disguise
Another mother gives him birth
With sturdier limb and brighter brain
The old soul takes the roads again. »
(written in the 1800)
A daemon called Anger once tattooed onto my wrist
A scar shaped like a torn clothe.
Often it hurts and torments me,
Reminding me of past angers, and how vain they were.
Who are you, staring at me in the mirror?
To be honest you remind me of someone I’ve known a long time ago.
But you are different: the guy I knew always smiled.
What has happened to you? Which peripeties have broken you down like this?
Come on guy, give a little smile! Great! Now I’m sure this is you.