Agua Viva

I’m expressing myself very badly and the right words escape me. My internal form has been carefully purified and yet my bond with the world has the naked crudity of free dreams and of great realities.

I love my cross, which I painfully carry. It’s the least I can make of my life: accept commiserably the sacrifice of the night.

I was born hard, heroic, alone, and standing. And I found my counterpoint in the landscape without picturesqueness and without beauty.