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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Yes, it isn't always wise to pretend that
the muses keep their arsenal in silence. These are my words and I clutch them as my spear. Forgive me, mother, I couldn't do it otherwise. I know, you've been silent since ever and, perhaps, I should have done the same, but out of our stillness a cryout had to gush sometime and, here it is, infusing my mouth with hope and tears and with a sunny glumness which belongs, I'm not sure, to me or to my grave. However this almost holds no consequence.
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