There is a silence that is not silence
It is the air that refuses to enter
It is the footsteps that echo in empty corridors
the time that drags, heavy
like a body that no longer feels

Fascism does not come with noise
It comes with the absence of song
with the hand that closes around the throat
and says, "This is not pain. This is order."

But there is a light that insists
A tiny light...

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I look at myself, and see the abyss
In the mirror, where time slips away
And the cruel emptiness takes me whole
Like a distant echo that life betrays

What is pain, if not a flame
That burns without being explained?
It is a torment that is not mine
But invades me, devours me under the moonlight

The divan calls me, but what is the divan
If not a well, where the soul is lost
In words th...

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It was no longer the body I saw
It was the emptiness of its lines
the silence that stretched like an endless night
a night in which beauty is lost
what is cursed
as if beauty were a lie
and the curse, perhaps, a form of love

I saw their gaze, the beautiful and the cursed
not with my eyes, but with absence
Because who feels sees through what’s unsaid
through what dissolves in the words ...

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