You wrote poems And I was romantic. I followed you down the beach But no I would not follow you into the sea. Years later we met And you told me Anxiety had stolen your life. If only you had said Back then, Back then I would have picked up your sword I would haveContinue reading

“Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimum, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.” – Michael Ondaatje : The English Patient Silver Print