…………………………………………………………………..
I slept so deep that my eyelid sank into my soul.
Sharp, it cut me.
Now I am bleeding impossible things.
……………………………………………………..
Liquids are coming out of my thoughts
Ah, they are crying rain!
And my eyes hurt,
And I am afraid
Everyone will call me Penelope
Or Magdalena.
With the desert islands inside me
I float towards unknown shores.
Hundred Years Gallery – London
