Everything honest ends in silence.
Find me now. Before someone else does.
The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it.
“Mourir, c’est frotter la neige contre la neige, incendier un hiver de frimas et de glace.”