Life is much cheaper in the profound imaginary, if you can't afford needs other than... dreaming.

Life – a sort of a plate of real-imaginary from which we nibble together with the birds of light and darkness, with the poor and well-to-do of the world at grains of to be once rough (like sharp stones), other times more like the pulp of pomegranates and ripe figs; stairs I have to climb in myself and climb down... to sometimes walk along the roads of infinity, other times, how many, to stop before the first step, waiting for the path home...

They haven't written the books to teach us all we want to know about our existence and us. And a large number of what is written is largely based on the conventional and the imaginary.

For an eternal love an equal amount of life is needed, but do you know how many eternities of love fit inside a soul as wide as the shadow of a branch of oak, of maple tree, of dream... and all for the same icon?...

I saw the infinity and flew towards him with eyes wide open, word and dream.

Reader, if you'd ever want infinity, stay with your eyes open in a fall of snow, of dandelion down, of dream, of sun – there are coming towards you its souls.