Weeping streams in the river

Translator: Sara Sachetti Fernandes

What we have lived and what is yet to be lived, which persists in permanently accompanying us.

I don’t ever want to blow.

A sour taste flies, a sourness within me flies, without ever leaving land, but wouldn’t it be more terrifying if I felt nothing when I came back?

The shiver; the sigh; the phantom touch; the wind in the back of my neck.

If it weren’t so.