We vibrate all souls of existence – clay and water pitchers with mouth, with eyes towards the skies.

We are made from clay, water, sun, air, and dream, and we feed on clay, water, air, sun, and dream. We are rains, snows, suns, we are seasons without the right to go back.

Chain the clay until the mind ripens!

The distance between two souls-one is infinity, outside.

Poetry: souls. In their whisper, the burning of infinity...

The solitude of our human souls is howled at the stars night after night by dogs.