It matters not what color you have, but how much soul, how much humanity it fits.

In my soul, humanity is a single part, a big gentle bird whose song I use to sing every early morning in the silence of the Universe.

The people are suffering and the rulers clink their cups. What color is their wine?...

I'm awake, but my soul is still sleeping in your heart.

Behind every soul there is at least one other soul, within each heart a bigger heart, like a day or like a night that unfolds from itself in turn, more alive, more hopeful...

It is not possible to mix soul and clay and not get oblivion.